The Traitor's Escape
by XxXMorganXxXLEAHXxX
Summary: Sequel to Traitor's Wedding. Following Joffrey's death, Sandor and Sansa Clegane are on the run. There is much to worry about, aside from the massive bounty for their heads. Sansa must come to terms with her pregnancy, help Sandor understand what a family truly is, and discover why she is having such strange dreams about direwolves and her dead brothers. And what about Robb?
1. Prologue

**The Traitor's Escape**

 **Prologue**

"Are you going to talk to me yet?" she asked, sitting on the bed.

He didn't respond.

She continued staring at his broad back in the darkened cabin. He'd refused to speak to her since they'd been onboard _Secondwind_. He wouldn't even look at her after helping her out of the little rowboat up to the massive ship, their ticket out of King's Landing and all the way to High Garden. He'd grunted at the men, had the crew show him and her down to the bunks, and he hadn't made a noise since.

Sansa Clegane had never felt quite so bad.

She couldn't say she felt alone because her husband, Sandor Clegane, hadn't stormed off and left her to her own devices. She also had an ever present reminder of the life she was growing inside of her. She'd never be alone again, whether it was the child she carried or with her husband. Still, it was unnerving that her husband no longer wanted to speak with her. He hadn't in almost two days now.

It was understandable that he was upset. She hadn't told him she was pregnant. She didn't think she was going to until after they were far enough away from King's Landing and safely tucked away from the dangers of the Lannisters. But Lady Olenna, the woman who had been kind enough to give them passage and a place in High Garden, had told Sandor the reason for their escape was because Sansa was carrying his child. She'd never seen him shut down like this.

It brought tears to her eyes, but she wiped at them angrily and finally said, "You'll have to talk to me at some point. If you would just let me explain…" He didn't snap at her like she thought he would. He just shifted on the bed and continued to stay silent. It was a lost cause, she knew it. Silently, she blew out the taper and set it on the tableside next to her. She shrugged off the cloak she had across her shoulders, let the fabric pool on the ground, and tugged the sheets aside so she could climb underneath. She settled on her side, facing away from Sandor, her chest tight.

She never thought him just ignoring her could hurt so badly.

The tears in her eyes trickled out, down her nose and cheek into the pillow underneath her. She didn't make a sound, didn't say another word. She tucked herself into a sort of ball, her knees tucked in close and one hand resting on her belly bump. Her other arm was under her pillow. It had been the same every night, the same cold shoulder and the chilly room. She steeled herself for another restless night.

She lay there for probably an hour restlessly. She tensed when she felt the bed move, heard the boards creak. She felt Sandor shift, so he was close to her, and then, to her surprise, he wrapped an arm around her and tugged her close. She could have sobbed, she was so overwhelmed. She touched his arm, which snaked its way gently around her middle, with delicate hands. She could feel his large hand spread across her bump, for the first time truly feeling what it was it rather than just a bit of fat. She couldn't stop touching him, nestled down in the warmth Sandor provided.

She tried saying, "Sandor…"

He refused to say a word still. His hand found its way under her undergarment and he stroked the bare skin of her belly gently. His touch made her shiver. She hadn't felt his touch in almost two days. She was almost ashamed that she began to react to his touch as if he was playing with her between her legs or toying with her nipples. Ever since he'd finally gotten over his reserves to touch her, they coupled at least every day, if not more often depending on Sandor's mood. She'd grown so used to it; she almost ached with release now that it'd been over two days.

She knew he wouldn't want to take her still, so she settled with just being in his arm. She felt him bury his face into her hair and breathe in.

It was much easier to fall asleep, tucked safely in her husband's arms.

 **1/2/17**

 **Just going through and doing a bit of updating. Thanks so much for supporting this story! And a special thanks to reviewer Swimmom1966 for pointing out my use of "ain't" didn't go along with the story timeline. I always love to hear this feedback and I greatly appreciate this. I've gone through and cleaned up every word, hopefully! Thanks!**

 **~A/N~**

 **Well, this is what I have so far. I have a rough outline planned for this story and, depending on how my characters go, I may or may not include a trilogy to the set. I have the pic for the story and the title already chosen. But as I said, it depends on how everything goes with this story. This story just keeps flowing through my head and out of my finger tips as I type it. I absolutely adore what it has turned into (and I can't wait to see what happens with it). There's so many ideas, tragic and happy both, and I am very tempted to write through this as quickly as possible and start on the next one. BUT I'm trying to be patient and write this as cleanly as possible. I want it to be perfect. The next chapter is written and currently being edited as I write this yay!**

 **Thank you so much for such responses for The Traitor's Wedding, I never imagined it would turn into something quite like this.**

 **R &R**

 **XmX**


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

Sansa Clegane decided she hated anything that required going over water, whether it was a boat or a ship like _Secondwind_ or some other form of water travel. She almost despised them. Who in their right mind wanted to be on a piece of wood that rocked and swayed with the ocean waves? It was hard enough to sleep on a regular night, much less with this movement. And forget about walking! It really didn't help she was continuously gaining weight around her middle so she felt all the more unstable.

What was the worst part out of all of this? _Secondwind's_ movement continuously made her nauseous, more than she had been since she found out about her baby. The difference between being sea sick and her pregnancy sickness were so much worse. Seasick made her more physically sick and exhausted than her baby ever did. She couldn't even stop eating a bit to relieve some of the nausea, for fear she might end up starving the growing life inside her.

On this morning, the ninth day on _Secondwind_ , Sansa started out about the same as any other day. She was lying in bed on her side, uncomfortable on her back, feeling another wave of nausea as _Secondwind_ lurched to one side suddenly. She grumbled and tried shifting onto her other side. In her hand, she had the amethyst hairnet Lady Olenna had given her. She had been studying the intricate threading and beading since she'd gotten on this ship. She'd noticed the missing stone almost immediately on the first day she was aboard. She remembered the stone Lady Olenna had pressed into her hand and she had put the amethyst back in place. The gem slipped back in snuggly and hadn't fallen out since.

She wondered why the Queen of Thorns had had her wear the piece to the wedding. She remembered the older lady touching the hairnet, adjusting it at the wedding. As they were departing, Lady Olenna had talked once again about the payment and touched the hairnet a last time. The Queen of Thorns had had the piece in her hand and given it to Sansa. Had the piece fallen off or…?

…Could she have been the reason Joffrey died?

It had been a long time ago, but she vaguely remembered reading about something Maester Luwin had called the Strangler. There hadn't been a lot of information supplied, other than a drawing and a few of the ingredients used to create the poison. Identifying it was easy, the Strangler was as dark as the amethysts in the hairnet and very deadly. She wondered, as she had so many times, if she had to do with Joffrey dying? He'd certainly turned as purple as the stones in the hairnet. He couldn't even gasp for air, he'd just died.

It made her shiver to think about it, not that she would ever regret his death. Joffrey deserved that and so much worse.

She wanted to ask Sandor about it more than anything, but he made it impossible. He refused to acknowledge her at any moment unless they were lying in bed at night. He wouldn't talk to her at all still, but at least when they were trying to sleep he would have his arms around her. He never tried to do anything more than touch her belly at nights. It had been almost seven days now, surely he'd have forgiven her a little bit. She'd apologized enough any time she could.

With a sigh, she shifted on the bed and reluctantly sat up. Her stomach had settled to a steady rolling, so she wasn't so physically ill. She usually had a few chores to do in the kitchens now. It was as good a time as ever to get up and move. She stashed the hairnet back into her pack, between the pages of one of her reference books from Lord Tyrion. She retrieved her cloak hanging on one of the hooks and tied it around her neck. It was usually chilly until midafternoon and this way, she could keep everyone from staring at her. She took a quick glance at the looking mirror and made sure her hair was plaited nicely. Happy with her appearance, Sansa opened up the cabin door and wandered up the stairs to the main deck.

It was foggy again. The sun barely peeked in through the haze. The air was left moist and cool and uninviting to anything exciting. She looked over the deck to see if she could spot her husband. The ever present circle of barrels was filled with the crewmen. Usually they were busy playing a game of cards or gambling, if they were unneeded up in the rafters or rowing when the wind failed. She wondered if Sandor was there with him or if he was up on one of the masts.

One man from the barrels waved over at Sansa, catching the attention of the other crewmen. Hooting and waving, the men all greeted Sansa. She giggled and waved back and wandered over to the railing. She looked out on the waves somberly, the smile off of her face. There was still so much she had to worry about and that didn't include what Lady Olenna had planned for them. Her hand went to her belly almost instantly, feeling a bit protective. Her swell was still small, but she could already tell it was increasing from the week before.

She thought about everything there was to worry about. Where would she and Sandor possibly go? Could they even go to Winterfell, now that the Greyjoy's had sacked her home? Would Jon be able to take them in at the Wall? How would they even be able to make it up that far North without being caught? What about Robb? What was happening with him? Was he still truly alive? And then, another important thing was Sandor.

Would he want to go with her once they got off _Secondwind_? Or, would he want to leave her, pregnant and alone?

She turned from the waves, trying to dismiss the depressing thoughts. She went across the deck, away from the crewmen playing cards near the same way she'd come up from the cabin. Next to stairway there was a door that led into the kitchens. Inside, she knew to expect three girls cooking and cleaning for the crewmen. They were the sweetest girls Sansa could imagine, aside from the oldest, and she had easily grown fond of each of them.

Knocking on the door, Sansa poked her head around the door and asked timidly, "Are you busy?"

"I was wonderin' where ya were!" one of the youngest girl's squealed, hopping down from her stool and bounding over to the door. Her name was Emmie, a girl of one and ten. She had wavy, charcoal black hair and a heart shaped face. She was the sweetest and most naïve of the bunch. Her look-alike sister, Scarla, was a bit more reserved and quiet. Still, she loved to play games with her sister and help out around the cook area. The last girl, the oldest sister Jacelyn, was of the age six and ten. She was the one to take the most care around the kitchen and raised her sisters as well. She was clearly matured past her years and, at first, she'd been hesitant to truly connect with Sansa. After all, they were likely never to see each other again after they landed in High Garden. But with some sweet smiles, kind words, and helping around the kitchen, she'd won Jacelyn over in the end.

Sansa smiled brightly at Emmie, as the girl came up and hugged her tightly. She told Emmie, "My tummy was a bit upset this morning, but I thought I could come and see if there was anything I could help with."

"Sit and knead some bread," Jacelyn told her, right before Emmie started babbling some more.

She started up almost before Jacelyn finished her sentence and asked with wide eyes, "Was it the baby again?" She'd been enthralled with Sansa's pregnancy since she'd let the information slip earlier that week. Emmie wanted to touch her belly and press her ears against the bump and chattered on as if the baby could hear and respond to her words.

Sansa smiled and said, "Yes it was." She walked over and stood next to the stool Emmie had been sitting on. Kneading bread was easier standing rather than sitting down. Emmie clambered up beside her and started asking a stream of questions. Sansa tried to answer as best as she could, smiling patiently when the young girl repeated her questions and looked for cues if Jacelyn wanted her to skim over any of the questions. She kept herself busy the entire time. Even though Lady Olenna had said she'd taken care of the payment and worked out their passage, Sansa felt like she needed to earn her place too. If Sandor could work, then so could she!

Eventually, Jacelyn shooed out Scarla and Emmie with platters full of food for the rest of the crew as their midday meal. She and Sansa were alone, at least for the next short while. Jacelyn set out to platters on the space between them, some bread and broth and even a bit for fruit. Once they'd settled in and ate a bit, Jacelyn finally asked, "How it been with… ya husband?"

Sansa almost giggled. Even after a week, she had a hard time actually calling Sandor by his name. Sometimes, she refused to even use the term husband. Jacelyn had been very unhappy with the fact Sandor still wouldn't speak to Sansa unless it was absolutely necessary and even then he was gruff.

Instead of commenting, she shrugged and told the girl, "He refuses to talk to me still. He won't touch me or kiss me or do anything that we'd worked so hard to get to before. It's just… we're at a standstill and I don't know where to go from here. I've apologized profusely, tried to get him to talk, but he just ignores it. He's hardly ever in our room now too."

"It expected. Man like he probabl' thinkin' ya didn't want tha child." Jacelyn accent faintly reminded Sansa of Shae. She longed to have her handmaiden back at times to confide with.

Back to the more pressing matters… "Why would he think that though? He knows this is what I've wanted since I was a kid. When I fairly begged him to be my husband, to give this marriage a try, I would have thought that would be all he needed to know I want him and this life."

Jacelyn shrugged. "He a man. He is stupid."

Sansa giggled. "I would blame the wine more than anything." She sighed softly and glanced down at her belly, hidden beneath the fabrics and her cloak. "I was more worried he wouldn't want me after this. I know family and children were never in his plan-"

She tutted, shaking her long dark curls out of her eyes, and spoke, "Ya not noticin' how he look at ya. He want ya, very much. He just don't trust ya."

Sansa lowered her eyes to the table and shrugged. "I wouldn't blame him," she agreed quietly.

"Talk ta him. Is the only way ya'll get somewhere."

"But he won't listen," she argued, a bit annoyed. "I talk and I talk and-"

"I wouldn' sayin' use words." Jacelyn didn't look at her, but Sansa saw the grin on her face.

"What should I do then?"

She looked up and arched one perfect brow. "Use tha womanly wiles that got ya a baby to begin with."

Sansa giggled into her hands and asked, "Do you think that would actually work?"

"Not no doubt in me mind 'bout it. Ya wanna try tonight? I keep him busy after dinner, ya get stripped and ready in tha room."

She giggled again, a light blush creeping up on her cheeks. "I don't know… He could-"

"Don't think 'bout it. Just do it."

"Oh, why not," she agreed. Both girls laughed and Jacelyn made comment about High Garden. She began telling the redhead everything there was to know about the place, from the city and the palace and Lord Willas. It sounded like a heavenly place, enough where Sansa knew she wouldn't have to worry about the threat of death. But warnings started going off in her head and memories of how she pictured King's Landing flooded her mind. Never again would she be able to blindly trust any one place that wasn't her home.

Emmie and Scarla returned some time later, with shells in their hands the crewmen gave them and more news to share about the travels. _Secondwind_ was probably another three days from shore, maybe a bit more if the wind didn't pick up soon. Emmie also had a bunch of suggestions for dinner that night. Jacelyn listened to her as she rambled off the foods, then set the two girls to peeling potatoes out of the barrels. Sansa helped out with putting the bread into the woodstove to bake. The first several days she'd tried baking the bread, Sansa ended up burning the loaves. Many of the crewmen had teased her each time as they ate the bread and she set it as a personal goal to make the best bread she possibly could. Now, the loaves only came out a bit dark, but much more edible than before. Sansa was rather pleased with herself.

Emmie and Scarla finished with the potatoes quick enough and begged Jacelyn to let Sansa play with them. The older woman looked over at the prepped ingredients and reluctantly consented. The girls dragged the redhead over to their little room at the far end of the kitchen. The three girls slept and prepped up the kitchen, mostly so Jacelyn could keep an eye that the woodstove never got too hot or started anything on fire and she didn't want her siblings off in their own rooms at night alone. So, the girls had plenty of space for the hammocks they slept in and they had a play corner set up with dolls and wooden toys.

Emmie wanted to play with the dolls she had. They were her treasures, the few things she'd had from her home before they'd come aboard. Scarla wasn't a fan of her sister's doll games and, instead, wanted to play with the wooden soldiers and people the crew had carved out. They bickered for a short while, until Sansa created an agreement on what to play. She explained to them patiently, "These dolls are new people to Scarla's men."

"The Horocans," Scarla said firmly, waiting to see if someone would argue.

Sansa smiled and agreed, "The Horocans. They've never met your dolls before, Emmie, so the two groups need to live in harmony. I'm sure-" But Emmie interrupted Sansa before she could finish, talking rapidly with Scarla. Soon enough, the setting was planned. Sansa helped string up their fabric trees and sky and stacked up the little wooden homes. The girls were off in their own world.

Neither of them tried including Sansa into the new game. She giggled softly, waited until she was sure they wouldn't notice, and slipped back over to the prepping area. Jacelyn shook her head and asked, "They playin' a new game?"

"Yes. I think they will be occupied for some time."

"Good." She dropped the last of the limp vegetables into a bowl of broth and told her, "I just finish up tha stew. Wanna put it on the stove? Got a dessert plannin' for tonight too." Sansa nodded and took the pot on the stove. There was a small spot on top of the stove, which the pot settled on perfectly. She stared into the contents as it warmed up on the woodstove. She wondered if anything would change for the day, or if it would all be the same. Nothing had so far this week, so it might just be another same day.

 **~A/N~**

 **Thank you all for so much response! You cannot believe how inspiring that is, I ended up final editing this chapter in no time! Chapter Two is already a third of the way done and very much edited for its first part. I'm hoping the rest of the chapter will flow as good as this one had. I'm currently trying to work on updating my other GoT SanSan Fic, The Hound and His Little Bird, but the chapter just isn't flowing quite as well as this is right now.**

 **I can't thank you enough for all of the reviews! You're the best readers a girl could ask for!**

 **R &R**

 **XmX**


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

Jacelyn sent Emmie and Scarla to fetch everyone once the evening had settled and the meal was completed. Sansa helped set up the table in the little dining hall, moving the plates and napkins so they were adjusted just right. Jacelyn placed all the food at one end of the table, to be passed back and forth through everyone. She had the stew, the bread cut up into even pieces, and even what looked like a dessert of some sort of cakes. Whatever they were, the cakes smelt like apples and cinnamon and made Sansa's mouth water.

She tried to avoid that plate, as she waited for the rest of the crew to appear.

Emmie and Scarla scurried in first, flushed and giggling as they whispered between themselves.

The men piled in next, hooting and bellowing and as loud as they ever were. A man, one Sansa was familiar with, winked at her and Jacelyn and said, "The meal looks lovely girls," as he passed by.

"Don't be a'flirtin' none, Aric," Jacelyn scowled, shooing Sansa towards her spot at the table. Sansa hesitated, not wanting to leave any more extra work. When Jacelyn sent her a heavy glare, the Clegane lady took that as a sign not to argue with her. She knew her seat would be near the furthest end across from Emmie and Scarla. Sandor would sit beside her.

She settled down across from Emmie and peeked around the men to see if she could find her husband. The other men around spoke with her at least once, asking her about the baby and how it was in the kitchen. She spoke to each one of them politely, trying not to extend too much genuine emotion.

Finally, she spotted Sandor. Immediately, she straightened up and tried to smile at him as he walked down their way. He barely acknowledged her, muttering something she hoped was a greeting as he sat down heavily. He looked as if he'd been working all day. She tried to ask him about it, but before she could get a word out, the Hound turned and began making bad conversation with Garnel. The young man, no more than four and twenty, gave her an apologetic look as he started talking with Sandor. Her shoulders drooping, Sansa focused on the bowl passed to her by Jacelyn and she spooned her serving. She had to take an extra half serving more than everyone else, because she was pregnant. When she tried arguing her first meal here, Jacelyn scolded her good until she ate twice as much that night.

She didn't try to argue again.

Sansa played with her soup for some time listlessly, and dipped her bread in the broth. Emmie tried making conversation with her, but Scarla nudged the girl until she stopped. The girls seemed to understand there was something the matter. Jacelyn glared at Sandor when the ex-Knight was looking, but he didn't seem to care nor mind. Eventually, the desert plate was passed around, but even the delicious smells didn't rouse too much happiness in Sansa. She still picked at them until she brought the first bite to her mouth. As soon as the taste of apples touched her tongue, she knew this was what she'd needed. It was like a biscuit with a baked apple in the middle, covered in this delicious lemony, spicy concoction that made her taste buds sing. She ate the biscuit as quickly as she could while still keeping her lady-like appearance. She wished there were more, some sort of leftovers to snack on at night when she woke up craving something sweet and salty.

By the time dinner was done, the men were all started in on another one of their games. Sansa helped Jacelyn clear up the dishes, but the dark haired girl refused to let her help wash them. She started to protest. Jacelyn snapped, "Ya go and strip down. Ya man gonna get something to night and so are ya."

When she hesitated, Jacelyn took the plates out of her hands, set them in the washbin in the kitchen, and shoved her lightly towards the door. Sansa left the kitchen, feeling suddenly nervous. She had butterflies in her belly and she was a bit flushed even as she wandered down the steps to their little room. She cracked open the door, half expecting Sandor to be standing there in the room, but he was absent.

She closed the door behind her and, for a moment, just stood there. Should she just wait until he entered the room? Would it be better to take off her clothes and just stand there and wait? What if someone else came into the room? Not that anyone had so far, but that didn't mean it couldn't happen! She sighed in frustration and ran a hand through her loosened hair. Since when had it become so hard to sleep with her husband? He hadn't cared when he did it or if she was even ready once he'd gotten used to the idea. He just bent her over or thrown her on the bed and had his way with her. He was good at it too and made sure she was at least wet before he'd take her.

She decided to start making herself decently presentable.

She loosened up the braid her hair was in, which was already falling apart from working in the kitchens all day. She ran a brush through the snarls until her hair felt decently smooth again. Then she began to unlace her dress, these ties much easier than the dresses at King's Landing. She'd been adamant to bring her simplest gowns and mostly they were her old dresses she'd brought from Winterfell. After a bit of tweaking and resizing, Sansa was able to squeeze back into the dresses, although her middle section was much tighter than she remembered previously.

Once she slipped the gown off of her body and she'd folded it up neatly, Sansa turned to the small looking glass on the wall. It was low enough that she could take a decent look at herself. She turned so she could see how far her belly stuck out. The bump had definitely grown enough that it was noticeable. She touched her belly, stroking the bump, wondering when she would be able to feel the baby kick on the outside. Sansa slipped off the rest of her clothes, from her underclothes to any piece of fabric that might cover her. For the first time in over a week, Sansa took a good look at herself and what differences had developed in her body over the last few months. From her budding breasts, her rounded stomach or her hips that had shifted about to prepare for the coming pregnancy. She couldn't believe the changes.

She felt strange being completely bare in a room by herself and decided to lay underneath the coverlet until Sandor arrived. She grabbed one of the books Lord Tyrion had given her as a reference and started to read through a few of the pages. She'd looked through them countless times, but Sansa still worried that she doing something wrong so she would go through and read up all of the information she could. Hopefully, there would be someone there who could help Sansa with all of her questions.

She had no clue how long it was that she was waiting. Eventually, she put away her book, blew out the taper and curled up under the coverlet. It wasn't the first time Sandor delayed coming back to bed until he was certain she would be asleep. This time, she would be ready for the wait. She contented herself with lying there, touching her belly and thinking about their next plan of action. It would help a lot more if she could talk with Sandor, hear what he might have to say or to voice his opinion. She didn't want to be solving all of this by herself without his thoughts too.

She was beginning to doze off when she heard the door to their room open. She tensed immediately, but stayed still underneath the coverlet. She could smell the wine wafting off of him as he stumbled in, but from the sound of his mutterings, he wasn't too terribly lost. She listened as he wandered around the dark room, cursing when he stubbed his toe or bumped into the washbin. She could imagine him shucking off his clothes as he did every night, completely bare as she was now, and then he was settling down on their bed. She waited for him to shift over, to wrap his arm around her and pull her to his chest. He had done it every night they'd been here so far...

She fairly melted into his arms when he wrapped one around her. He stilled the moment he felt her bare skin, exposed and open for him. The smell of wine surrounded her, but Sansa didn't mind, even as she shifted around and faced the Hound in the near darkness. "Sandor," she whispered, reaching out to touch him.

He growled at her and snapped, "What the fuck are you-?" She didn't let him finish his sentence; she had touched his face, just enough where she knew his mouth was. She pressed her lips against his almost hesitant, snaking her arms around his neck and melding up against him in the way she knew he wouldn't be able to resist. She could feel his body responding almost immediately; the lack of his clear-headedness, and the fact they had gone so long without coupling, made it easy to harden his manhood. Instead of pushing her away as she imagined he would, Sandor tangled his hand into her hair, nipping at her bottom lip in a clear demand as he kissed her back hard. She opened her mouth just enough, her tongue touching his almost tentatively. That touch alone made her moan softly and shiver. It wasn't going to take much to get her wet either.

His other hand hadn't found its way down as it usually did, firmly clasped to her waist, while he shifted her. Immediately, she spread her legs as he settled her on his hips and settled out on his manhood, to try to tease him. When she went to rise up, just enough that she could rub her wet slit against his, she noticed he had a hard hold on her in way to prevent her from moving. She almost whimpered at the pressure, but it didn't hurt. She wasn't sure what he wanted…

He shifted her again, off of him onto the bed. He told her roughly, "Get on your knees." His voice, raspy and deep and demanding, made her shiver and sent a tingle down between her legs, even as she scrambled to do what he requested. She hadn't thought it would be this easy, that he-

She whined loudly as he pushed into her suddenly, piercing her so quickly she hadn't expected it. Her arms went out under her, but Sandor's grip on her hips kept her mostly upright, even as he pulled out and began to thrust into her again. She gripped onto the sheets, desperate for some sort of purchase as he moved in and out of her at such a pace she could hardly keep up. She couldn't think of anything else, only focused on the delicious feeling of such friction and fullness. She tried to move with him, but every time she shifted, he would still inside of her until she settled. She was biting on her bottom lip, trying to keep quiet, but with every thrust and shift, Sansa squeaked and whimpered. She desperately wished he would reach down and touch her between her legs, but he made no move to relieve her in the least.

When he began to slow down, she wondered if he'd already finished. Would he want her to? Or was this retaliation, a way for him to release his pent up frustration in a way that didn't harm her at all? This felt like absolute torture though, her legs almost shaking at the built up pleasure, even as he slid out of her. She almost argued, thought about begging him to finish her, somehow. But her voice caught in her throat as Sandor touched her back and told her, voice impatient, "Get on your side." She did so without question, heart hammering in her chest. She could feel him settling out beside her, then his hand hooked around her right knee and he lifted it up with his forearm, spreading her wide so he could sink inside of her once more. She moaned, louder than she would have liked. He released her leg, but she kept it raised up, certain that was what he wanted.

"Sandor," she whimpered, feeling him move inside of her, sliding out so slowly she almost shook.

"Why the fuck had you lied to me?" he growled suddenly, only the very head of his manhood still inside of her.

"What?" she gasped out as he sunk back into her wet folds so suddenly.

He worked his way out again, as slowly as before, drawing out the question again, "Why in the fucking hells had you lied to me?"

"I-I didn't mean-Oooooh," she moaned out as he moved back into her, much slower this time. His hand had found one of her nipples, hard and erect. He pinched the bud, rolling it between two fingers almost painfully so. She'd never enjoyed it so much.

"Answer the fucking question," he said, sounding angry.

"I-I…" She tried to focus on her words, her thoughts scattered as he played with her and slowly worked his way in and out of her. She tried to roll her hips with his, to drive him deeper, but he released her sensitive nipple to still her actions. Her thighs trembled and she whimpered. She babbled out as quickly as she could, "I-I didn't mean to. B-but King's Landing was filled with spies and birds and-" She almost moaned loudly again when his hands traveled down between her legs, finding her nub easily. She almost finished then and there, but he removed his hand before she could.

"What the fuck were you thinking about this?" he growled, his breath tickling her ear as he touched her baby bump.

Tears almost filled her eyes, so suddenly overwhelmed. She might have started crying, had Sandor not started moving in her, thrusting a little bit harder and faster. She clenched down on him tightly, even as she stammered out, "I d-didn't think you'd want me. Or us. Y-you've never said a word about our future, our lives. I thought-thought that you would hate me. A-and I couldn't handle it if you ran-" She squeaked when he reached down and stroked her little button of pleasure. He pinched the little nub and began to move as fast and hard as he could while he toyed with her.

She couldn't ever remember a completion so intense. It was almost blinding, as she cried out his name and clenched down on his manhood so tightly she could feel Sandor begin to pulse inside of her. They lay there, entwined, as Sansa lowered her leg and Sandor wrapped his arms tightly around her. He stayed deep inside of her, even as he buried his face into her hair and kissed her so gently on her neck. She could feel his scars and scruff brush against her skin. She could feel the tingles from her head to the tips of her toes. She held onto his forearm with her hands, squeezing her eyes shut so she could fight off tears. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Sandor," she whispered. "I just… I love you so much, it hurts to imagine my life without yours." Her heart hammered in her chest. She'd never told him what she felt, how much she had begun to care for him in the months they'd bene married.

"I won't going nowhere, Little Bird," he said gruffly. He loosened his grip on her, so she could twist around and meet his eyes. He kissed her hard and muttered against her skin as he began to kiss down his neck, "I'm pissed as fuck with you. I'm nott gonna just be okay with what the hell you did. But, you're stuck with an old dog for the rest of your days, whether you want to or not."

She whimpered as he began nipping at her skin, the feelings spreading down to her breasts and between her legs. "Show me that I am," she whispered, arching as his hand found one of her nipples. And show her he did.

 **~A/N~**

 **Finally, finally got this chapter finished and edited! It actually took quite a bit to write this one out, I just couldn't get it to flow just right. I'm not impressed with the ending, but it was the best I could think of. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Thank you so much for the response, I couldn't be more pleased with all of the reviews! Thank you, thank you, thank you :)**

 **Chapter Three is already a full page and a half and I still have two days left to this week I have time to write it. Might be done by this weekend! *Fingers crossed***

 **R &R!**

 **XmX**


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

There was chaos. Fire pressed on all sides, washing her in waves of heat even as she ran through the throngs of people. The smell of fire and blood and burnt flesh filled her nostrils, cutting off any fresh supply of air. Men were screaming. The clash of steel and wood was surrounding her. She felt a wave of panic as the men grew closer and closer. Just where was she? She didn't smell the sea or anyone that was familiar to her in the least. Her eyes focused on a man, who took one look at her and began notching an arrow. Instinctively, she threw herself to the side, just as he loosed. She felt the arrow embed in her hind leg, the pain blossoming so badly for a moment, she couldn't move. It was then she realized she was on all fours.

She paused for a moment, taking the time to look down at what she now saw were paws. What the-? She heard another arrow loose from the bow and the shaft buried directly into her flank. She snarled in pain, momentarily distracted from her revelation. She started to run as best as she could. Men began to pile in around her on all sides, some after her, some wanting to get out of her way. The body she was in, because this certainly wasn't hers, seemed to know where it needed to go. She ran as quickly as she could towards two towers…

"Grey Wind! To me!" Sansa turned towards the voice, as if answering to the name. She saw him, for the first time in over a year. There was no mistaking the Tully red hair atop his head or the face she'd never forget. But her eyes found the wounds immediately, the arrow shafts buried into his back and side. She loped over as quickly as she could, the pain in her side burning the more she walked. She pressed up against his leg, so much further down, but not enough that the Stark boy couldn't lean against her heavily.

As they were making their way towards the river, painfully slow, the men began to step out in front of them, blocking their paths. Robb Stark, King of the North, released his grip on her and whispered, "Protect." Instinct took her over and, with a deep snarl she realized wasn't hers, she launched at the first man's throat.

Just as her muzzle closed on the man's throat, Sansa woke up screaming. The taste of blood was still in her mouth, but it was fading quickly. She touched her sides, her legs, but she noticed the waves of pain she was feeling moments before were completely gone. There was nothing wrong with the baby, was there? She touched the bump, to see if she could feel anything the matter. Other than a bit of fluttering (stronger than the weeks before when she felt his first movements), Sansa didn't think there was anything wrong. Her sudden panic had probably set him into motion. She could have sobbed in relief.

Beside her, Sandor jolted awake, growling sleepily, "'at's the matter?" When he noticed she was touching her baby bump, he immediately sat up.

She shook her head before he could say a word and said, "I had a nightmare." She didn't think about it, she just moved closer and pressed up to his broad chest. She couldn't stop breathing heavily. Tears flooded her eyes, thinking about her brother and Grey Wind. What had that dream been about? She hadn't even thought about where her brother could be at or how he'd managed to escape the wedding at the Twins…

She could feel Sandor tense beside her and knew he had sobered up. "Please, don't leave," she whispered, feeling ashamed that she needed him so badly at this moment. She knew she should give him his space, let him forgive her for her lies and conspiring, but she just needed this moment with him. She didn't want to think about why she was dreaming of the Twins or what looked like a massive battle. It worried her about her sibling. She wondered if she could get into contact with him, somehow, or if he was lost to her.

To her relief, Sandor wrapped his arm around her and, as he began to lay down, let her settle up against him and his chest. She closed her eyes, letting herself stretch out against him and pressing as close as she could. She could feel his hands on her skin, running his fingertips against her skin and down her back. His touch couldn't distract her though.

Her mind kept returning to her dream. To the fire, the blood, and to who she had seen. Had she really been dreaming from Grey Wind's prospective? She knew Robb had escaped, but she was unaware of any details.

She squeezed her eyes tighter together, tried to chase away any of the thoughts, but it was stuck in her mind. She listened for a moment in the quiet. Sandor's body wasn't relaxed like it usually was when he was sleeping and his breathing was heavier. With soft movements, Sansa shifted up until she could kiss him. She didn't want to think, she didn't want to worry about why she was dreaming of her brother or why the towers she'd been running towards looked awfully like the descriptions of the Twins. She could tell he was uncertain as she kissed him, but it didn't take long for the Hound to begin touching her and distracting her enough for the time being.

#

#

Sansa lay in bed, noticing the sun as it began to peek into her window. Sandor had gone out shortly after he'd finished with her. He'd still seemed a bit angry and more so now, but at least he'd acknowledged her with a very gruff, "Morning." She murmured back at him, settled out on her side as she watched him dress, pulling on his breeches and a loose tunic. She wanted to reach out and touch him, trace his scars and kiss his skin, but she held back.

Without another word to her, the Hound walked out of the room.

 _Secondwind_ was moving smoothly across the water at least. There was little rocking she could feel in the bed, so her stomach was decently settled. She sat up in the bed, tugging the coverlet aside, and standing on the cool wood. She wandered over to the washbin to wash off a bit of the sweat and grime from her skin. The water was chilled, but clean at least. She took up the washing cloth and wet it down.

As she scrubbed off her skin the best she could, Sansa thought of her dream she'd tried so hard to forget about. She could give herself this moment to think it over, spread out her worries, and tuck it into the back of her mind to think more clearly about later. Why was she dreaming about Robb to begin with? Was it the Twins she was dreaming at? If so, was the dream about the battle? How did she know anything about it? Where was Robb? Was he okay?

Tears burned her eyes at the thought of her brother. So far, she'd refused to acknowledge any emotional connection with her family while she was in King's Landing and she'd almost disappeared into herself while on board. She had been trying to focus just on her baby and Sandor and their escape in High Garden. But being only days away from docking, she knew sooner or later she would have to become Sansa Clegane née Stark once more. As soon as she was in front of Lord Willas, she would need to become the perfect lady once more, happy and carrying a child.

Was she ready to be Sansa Clegane again?

She wondered and thought as she finished wiping herself down. She touched her belly with light fingers thoughtfully. Could she take the time to grieve for the family she'd lost? She wasn't even sure she could grieve for them anymore. It had been so long since she'd thought of her brothers and Mother, she hardly felt any ache in her chest at their memories. It was the same with her Father. He'd been gone for so long and she'd never been able to properly grieve for him.

It was better not to think of the family she could not reach for now. What was most important was Robb and Grey Wind and Arya. She had no clue where her little sister was, if she was still alive. No one talked about the younger Stark girl in King's Landing, so Sansa figured it was safe to assume Arya was alive. But where could she have gone? Towards the Wall, to Jon, where she had the potential to be safe? Or was she lost in the woods somewhere, running as Nymeria was probably doing too.

She felt a small wave of anger at that thought. More than anything, she ached for Lady, her sweet little direwolf who would never harm anyone. It hadn't been fair that her sweet wolf had been butchered like an animal, simply because Nymeria had run. By now, she understood life wasn't fair, but it didn't mean a situation like that couldn't hurt her still.

She wiped her skin dry with a heavy sigh on her lips. She laced up a plain dark dress, plaited her hair and tucked it up so her hair wasn't resting on her neck. She studied her reflection in the looking glass one last time, from her wide bright Tully blue eyes and her auburn locks and pale skin. She almost looked like she was glowing and wondered if the baby had anything to do with that. She brushed one last stray lock behind her ear and turned towards the door.

The deck was almost completely still. Sansa could spot two men, keeping their usually nightly duties watching the waves and making sure they were staying on course. Sandor was not on deck, nor was he up above. She wandered towards the kitchen, wondering if Jacelyn was up and about already. She was more than surprised to open the door and see Sandor standing there in the kitchen, talking with the dark haired girl.

Jacelyn looked less than pleased, a scowl as heavy as Sandor's on her face, even as her dark eyes flickered over to Sansa and she told the Hound, "I see what I can do. Go, 'fore ya get kicked out."

Sandor growled at her and turned away, to see Sansa standing there in the doorway, looking a bit stunned. In his hand, she saw he had a large platter of food. "Thought you'd be in bed a while longer," he grunted, walking up to her. He handed her the platter and walked past her without another word. She stared at the platter for a moment and then looked back up at Jacelyn. She had a mildly amused expression on her face and gestured for Sansa to have a seat. She did so reluctantly, still a bit put out.

"'ow was the evenin'?" Jacelyn asked, leaning against the prep table and biting into an apple.

"Oh, uh…" Sansa began to flush a bit and she ducked her head. "It was fine," she said, reluctantly picking up a small piece of bread and nibbling on it.

"Jus' fine?" she asked. By the small grin on his face, it was obvious she could tell it was more than "just fine".

Sansa giggled. "Just fine," she agreed again.

"Not what I was ahearin'," Jacelyn teased, poking Sansa in the side as she started to walk by. Sansa flushed, looking a bit horrified.

"I am so sorry," she said, turning to look at the dark haired girl. "He just…"

She laughed and waved off Sansa's apology. "No 'pologizin' necessary. Tha girls not woken once and it didn't affect me a one."

"I'm so mortified," she said dramatically, covering her face and giggling at the same time.

"He seem to be respondin' to it though. At least said somethin' to ya thas mornin'."

"He's angry, but I think I helped clear up a bit of the doubt."

"Good. Now, finish eatin' up that food and start on some 'tatoes." Sansa nodded and stuffed the rest of the bread into her mouth. She finished up the broth and ate the little fruit on her platter. She was surprised to look down and see a sweet biscuit from last night's dinner sitting there in front of her. When she looked up, Jacelyn was grinning at her. "He left it for ya, insisted I save it for ya this morning." A smile spread across her face and she picked up the warmed biscuit to take that delicious first bite. She moaned as she ate the dessert; it tasted just as good as yesterday's, if not more.

Once she finished eating her breakfast, she took her dish over to the washbin and cleaned up her mess. She pulled out a couple potatoes for the morning meal and started taking off the skins. Jacelyn got together the salted pork, a few eggs, and, once Sansa was done with the potatoes, had her squeeze some fruit for juice.

Emmie was the first one awake, looking a bit more worn out than usual. When she saw breakfast was ready, she wandered over, yawning widely, and settled up beside Sansa. She rested her head against the redhead's shoulder and sleepily watched Jacelyn get together her food. Sansa smiled, wiped off her sticky fingers, and stroked her messy curls. "Would you like me to do your hair this morning?" she asked Emmie. The girl nodded, briefly lighting up at the prospect. She slid off the stool and went for her favorite brush. Once she returned, she settled on the stool and handed Sansa the brush. Sansa stood up and started from the bottom up, lightly running the brush each time, careful of any snags. She knew Emmie loved her hair up high on her head ("Just like all Princesses!" she'd say whenever Sansa asked her about it), so she had plaited the top of her hair and then plaited underneath, from her neck up. They would meet in the middle, where she could create a gorgeous bun tucked in neatly with a few sticks and held into place.

Emmie snacked on bits of fruits while Sansa worked on her hair. She was wide awake by the time Sansa was finished with her hair. Scarla was still sleeping, but she usually stayed in bed later than her sister. Emmie started helping prepare a few of the platters for the morning meal, setting pork and eggs in careful proportions, and giving each the correct serving of fruit and bread. Sansa cut up the bread into even slices and served the potatoes onto each platter. The morning meal was also served to each person, the crew didn't have time to sit down and eat.

Scarla finally shuffled out of bed when Jacelyn began sending Emmie and Sansa out with the food. She stared at Emmie's hair for a moment, looked at Sansa, and Jacelyn and her bottom lip began to tremble. Jacelyn growled at the girl for a moment, looking less than pleased, even as Scarla opened her mouth and whined, "'ow comes Emmie gets her hair done?"

"You weren' up," her older sister said. "Take out tha platters, may then she can do yours."

Scarla looked ready to argue, but another heavy look from Jacelyn made the young girl think twice. Mumbling under her breath, she took a few platters as well and started out onto the deck. Jacelyn huffed and shook her head. "Hope ya don't have no girl. They more trouble than worth," she sighed, glancing at Sansa's belly.

Sansa giggled, remembering her and Arya for a brief moment, and said, "It wouldn't be so bad. I am almost hoping he'll be a boy." She didn't want to add that it was for Heir purposes, that there would still be a Clegane-Stark child that could take the North if no one found Robb or if he wasn't really alive.

She wondered if Sandor would be happier with a boy or a girl.

She shook the thoughts from her head and followed Jacelyn example, picking up what she could of the platters. Between the two of them, they managed what was left to bring out. The men were already surrounding the younger girls, teasing them and thanking the girls for their help. Emmie babbled the most, eyes shining brightly at the compliments and words. Scarla stared at her sister, still looking a bit upset that her hair hadn't been done as prettily.

Sansa spotted Sandor among the men and almost froze. Before she could think about making her way towards him, the other men began to surround her, taking the platters from her fingers before she could say a word. They all managed to greet her in some form, whether they were cheerful or grumpy depending on if the guys were morning people. Soon enough, all she had left was one last platter. The men had dispersed after getting their food. Sandor was the one of the few still there. He took a step towards her, for a moment looking a bit unlike himself.

Sansa couldn't help, but blush a bit and ducked her head. She mumbled, "I brought some breakfast," and offered the platter to him. He took the platter from her, muttering his thanks. When she glanced up at him, she noticed he was watching her, as if he was waiting for her to do something. For a moment, they stared at each other, Sansa wondering if she should do something.

Emmie came at that moment, yelling for Sansa even though she could clearly see the redhead. Immediately, Sandor grunted some sort of excuse and left, leaving Sansa a bit confused, even as she turned to the girl. "They sayin' we be dockin' soon!" she said, eyes bright and wide. "We be home soon!"

She blinked once, twice, staring at the girl in front of her. "What do you mean, Emmie?" she asked.

"Look, look!" she said, pointing behind Sansa. Slowly, the redhead turned. In the distance, she could just barely make out what looked to be land. "It only be 'nother day!"

Sansa didn't respond. She continued staring out over the water, towards the next part of her journey.

Was she ready for this?

Could she start being herself again and live up to her name?

 **~A/N~**

 **Well sometimes a chapter has much meaning and sometimes it has nothing at all. This one is one of those. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with it, but I feel like this is where it ends. The next chapter is flowing a bit better, but its still hit and miss and I'm more intrigued to get into the chapters of High Garden.**

 **Thank you for sticking around and all of your reviews! They are much appreciated~**

 **R &R**

 **XmX**


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

With news of High Garden fast approaching, the crew went into a sort of panic. It wasn't a chaotic mess Sansa might have imagined. The crewmates were nothing, but collected. However, they began to clean. Everything. From the tops of the decks to the smallest crevices, each member was adamant to make the wood and rooms spotless. Jacelyn had her sisters moving all day long, getting the food in the kitchen secured and ready to undock. Sansa was sent off to a corner, prepping up the food for the evening meal. She wasn't allowed to lift a hand to assist in any other physical labor. When Jacelyn snapped at her, Sansa huffed and muttered, "I'm not fragile." But no one seemed to care much.

After a while, when Sansa wandered out on deck for a quick walk, she was amazed at how bare a ship could look. All the barrels the men usually used as tables to eat and play were pushed up against a far wall, out of the way. The ropes were all coiled up into neat piles. Not one personal item was in sight. She wandered down to the lower deck, to the bunks and rooms. A quick peek into her room told Sansa Sandor had packed up all their belongings as well.

She wondered why the crew was so particular about how clean _Secondwind_ was. Her mind wandered to many possibilities, more than worried that perhaps there was something wrong in High Garden she hadn't heard about. Could she be going to just a new cage, a new lie she wouldn't be able to escape? All she'd heard about High Garden was how beautiful and open the place was, that Lord Willas was nothing, but kind. That was anything, but reassuring. She remembered the same words used for King's Landing and Joffrey.

She refused to be fooled again. She wasn't naïve or stupid and she understood what was going on in her life now. The world was an ugly place, people were not good or kind like the stories had made everyone out to be. Sansa refused to trust anyone's word. All she had left was Sandor and what little was left of her family. Anyone else could be considered spies or liars.

With those depressing thoughts in mind, Sansa went back to the kitchens to help out some more.

By the time the evening meal was rolling around, the crew was utterly exhausted. However, the ship was beautiful. The wood surfaces were cleaner than Sansa could ever believe possible. Every object was put into its rightful place. There was not one person who didn't scrub themselves clean. Sansa had to ask what was going on. She questioned Jacelyn, as they were displaying the evening meal, "Why is everyone so intent on making the place so clean?"

She glanced at the redhead and said, "Rumor 'as it, Lord Willas be meetin' us when it board. Won't want 'im thinkin' we not fit for sea travel."

Sansa tensed a bit, trying not to look guilty. So far, no one aside from the captain even knew who she was. It was probably obvious enough who the Hound was. She could only hope that no one else connected her identity with hers. She didn't want anyone knowing she was a Clegane/Stark or that there was another Heir being brought toward the North. She continued asking, "Is that a bad situation, where he stops in and visits?"

Jacelyn's brows furrowed and she said, "'e never done this before is all."

Emmie interrupted the two, tugging Sansa's dress and asking about one of the platters in her hand, and that was enough distraction to change the subject completely. Dinner came and, as expected, it was hectic, loud, and, with the high strung emotions, several friendly fist fights ensured. Sansa kept mostly to herself and the three girls. She watched Emmie and Scarla play with shells and little dolls Emmie had snuck into the dining area. Jacelyn spoke with Sansa and her sisters when she wasn't busy breaking up fights and messing around with the crew.

Sansa spotted Sandor among the men, busy in a sort of game with cards and shells. She couldn't help herself; she watched him, intrigued by his movements and motives and wondering just what he might be up to. He caught her eyes more than once and each time, Sansa ducked her head and started paying closer attention to the games Emmie was busy trying to involve her in. She knew she needed to give her husband a bit of peace, so he could work out his frustrations with her. At the same time, she missed being with him. They hadn't had the most open relationship to begin with, but she always knew she could go to him before. Now, she wondered whether she was really welcomed at all.

She should worry more about what was coming next. She should be thinking about Lord Willas, questioning if she could trust him or if she would need to come up with another escape plan. And, if she didn't want to think about Lord Willas, she could focus more on her baby. She could worry herself about if the baby was healthy or if she was doing something wrong. The absolute last thing she could think about would be Robb and Arya, not that there was a whole lot she could do. But that seemed more logical than fretting about Sandor.

Still, her thoughts couldn't be dissuaded from anything other than Sandor.

With a soft sigh, Sansa stood up and told Jacelyn, "I'm going to go lay down for the evening. It's been a busy day and I expect tomorrow will be even more."

The girl nodded and bid her good night. Emmie and Scarla echoed their sister, beaming when Sansa ruffled each of their heads in return. A few of the crewmen Sansa wasn't overly familiar with noticed she was leaving. She waved to them with a polite smile. She avoided looking at Sandor as she hurried out. He had asked to have space, to get over her lies and deceit. It wouldn't help to continue looking out for him and staring! That was the exact opposite of what he needed.

She wrapped her arms around herself, drawing her cloak closer to herself. "Stop thinking about him," she told herself firmly. She had so much more to focus on, she needed to quit worrying about her marriage. Everything would be okay. It would just take some time. There was nothing else to worry about.

That's what she tried to tell herself anyways.

But, even as she wandered across the main deck to glance over the railing, her mind couldn't be deterred from Sandor. She was worried about him, about their marriage. What happened if he didn't want to forgive her for the deceit? How would he react in their relationship now? Would he hate to come to her for anything? Was he not going to want to be with her anymore? She bit her bottom lip and pressed her hands to her face.

Why did she want to torture herself so much? She really didn't need to worry herself so badly about something this trivial. She had High Garden to worry about. She had Robb and Grey Wind and Arya to think on. She needed to begin planning her next steps after High Garden. She should be concerned about her baby, whether she wanted to be at High Garden when she gave birth or if she wanted to be back in Winterfell, surrounded by family and familiar walls. There were so many other things to think about and worry on.

But it was only Sandor who was on her mind.

She sighed and turned herself back to the stairs. It was time to lay down and try to sleep. Her body was drained, her emotions were shot, and all she could think of doing was to curl up in bed and never move again. She loosened her hair as she made her way down the stairs, the braid undone and her locks left flowing loosely down her back. Once she was in her room and the door was closed firmly, she untied her cloak and hung the cloth by the door. The gown was unlaced next, folded neatly and set beside the rucksacks. It was her last clean gown and she didn't want to have to wear a damp fabric if she tried cleaning one tonight.

She left herself in her shift, but nothing else. Then she sat down on the edge of the bed and hung her head. One hand ran through her hair, tangling into the strands as she tried to clear her mind. "Breathe," she whispered to herself. "Focus on something else. Focus on Robb or Grey Wind." She continued to mutter this to herself, squeezing her eyes closed to force out any other thoughts. Slowly, she laid herself down on the bed. It took all her willpower to not change her focus, the image of Grey Wind firmly planted in her mind. She could almost see the smoke gray wolf behind her eyelids. Could hear him panting, growling, snar…

A dark heaviness slithered its way across her body, her limbs becoming impossibly heavy and a wave of tiredness washed over her. She let the feelings sink into her body, almost embracing the lull of what she thought was sleep.

She certainly hadn't expected to open her eyes and see trees above her. A wave of panic surged through her body, making her sit up instantly. What surprised her the most was what she saw before her; there were a pile of people collected on the ground and two very familiar wolves curled up near the flames. She tensed at once, expecting one of them to notice she was there. No one stirred. Slowly, she stood up on her feet and cautiously took one step towards the flames. Growing confident, she walked around the group. The first person she stepped towards, she didn't recognize.

It was a woman, maybe two and twenty. Lean and tall, Sansa noted the hardness of her face and the shaggy brown hair. She didn't look like any normal Northern. Slowly, she made her way over to the next sleeping body. She recognized him at once; Hodor. What was he doing here? Her eyes slid over, to one of the other bodies lying there. She spotted shaggy dark auburn hair, both sets having to be young boys.

Immediately, she straightened up and hurried over as quick as she could. Her footsteps didn't make a sound, even when she bumped into one of the makeshift sleeping mats. She dropped down beside the first body, pressing a hand to her mouth. Because, sleeping right in front of her, was Brandon Stark. "Bran," she whispered, reaching out to brush aside the bangs hanging in his eyes.

Her hand went right through him.

She retracted immediately, eyes widening in shock.

Young Bran stirred in front of her and blinked, once, muttering, "Sansa?", as if he'd someone heard her. The silver-gray direwolf sat up at once upon hearing his voice. Sansa froze, expecting one of the wolves to snarl at her. But the wolf's eyes slid right over her, to Bran. She watched the young boy sit up, blinking again and looking around the cavern. "I'm here," she wanted to say, but her voice caught in her throat. Slowly, she reached out her hand to touch him.

But then she heard a voice. _"Sansa."_

 _Sansa…_

"Sansa!"

She sat up, frantic. In front of her, there was an arm. She clutched onto the familiar forearm and almost clung to Sandor. What had just happened? "Bran," she whispered, pressing closer to Sandor. How had she been there? Was it a dream?

"What the fuck happened, Little Bird?" he rasped. She looked up at her husband, a look of concern and a heavy frown on his face. She opened her mouth to speak, but she was at a loss for words. She pressed her forehead against his chest, mumbling how she was fine and that it had just been a nightmare. There was nothing to say. Perhaps she had just been daydreaming, imagining something that wasn't there. She had been thinking about Grey Wind… It would make sense…

Even so…

Bran was gone and so was Rickon and probably Hodor as well. They were all _dead_. It had to have been just a dream, some sort of trick her mind was playing. That had to be the reason why.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she wiped at her face and asked, "Is everything okay?"

Sandor looked ready to ask her something, but instead, he told her, "We'll be docking shortly. They're already started slowing down _Secondwind_!"

"We… we're already here?"

"Aye. Gotta get up and get dressed it looks like. Gonna go see how I can assist."

She scooted away from Sandor on the bed, nodding her head and looking down at her legs. Before he could disappear from the room, she questioned, "How long had I been out of it."

"Few hours or so," he said, the frown returning. She nodded and waited until he left to let out a shaky breath. How had she been asleep for a few hours? It seemed like seconds ago she'd just laid down in bed. It certainly felt like it!

What was going on here?

She took hold of her hair and closed her eyes. It had to be the baby. There was no other explanation for her crazy dreams or… A jolt in _Secondwind_ brought her out of her thoughts. She could feel it now, how the speed was quickly dropping. They had arrived.

She took a deep breath and stood up. She could do this. She could be Sansa Clegane now. She could be strong. She _had_ to be strong.

 **~A/N~**

 **Well this chapter sucked to write. It's been rewritten a total of six times, with three alternate ends to the chapter. BUT I finally settled on this end. Otherwise, it just felt like I was dragging way too much in the chapter. Sorry if it's a bit short, but the next one is quickly underway, as long as it goes according to plan.**

 **Thanks for sticking with me so far!**

 **R &R**

 **XmX**


	6. Chapter Five

**~A/N~ Please note, there has been a change while I was writing this chapter. I've changed references to "the ship" as** _ **Secondwind**_ **. I didn't want any current readers getting confused. I've gone through and recorrected this out of the previous chapters already. Also, again many thanks to reviewer Swimmom1966, who pointed out my use of "ain't" which did not fit in with the general timeline of Game of Thrones. This has also been corrected out of previous chapters.** **Aside from sentence structure and a name for the ship, there hasn't been any other changes!**

 **Chapter Five**

By the time Sansa emerged to the upper deck, the ship had almost completely stilled. She'd dressed as quickly as she could, leaving her hair loose aside from two small braids atop her head, and finally she made the bed. She smoothed out the coverlet, taking care to make sure it was perfect. Then she scooped up the packed rucksacks and headed to the upper deck.

It was nearly pitch black outside. Sansa could barely make out any of the crewmen. However, Sandor was pretty obvious since he towered over nearly every man there and the distinct rasp of his voice as he barked out orders. She wrapped her arms closer to herself, feeling a bit put out that she wasn't doing anything to help. Slowly, she turned and went to head to the kitchens. Maybe Jacelyn would need assistance inside.

As expected, the dark haired girl was scrambling in the kitchen. Between helping her sisters and securing each barrel of food to be moved, she looked a bit frizzled out. She whipped around the moment she heard the door open and a relieved look crossed her face when she saw Sansa. The redhead smiled and asked, "What do you need me to do?"

"Get tha gals ready ta leave. We takin' the food and tha few things thay need. Won't be needin' much, only be off for a few days." Jacelyn shot her sisters an annoyed look. "See if ya have any luck with the girls. They is inconsolable." She huffed in frustration and turned back to her tasks.

Sansa nodded, turning her attention to Scarla and Emmie. Both the girls looked ready to burst into tears at any moment. Emmie didn't even hurry over to her the closer she got. She settled down on the ground beside them and asked, "What's the matter?"

"Jacelyn say we can't take no toys now," Emmie sniffled, looking extremely upset.

"Oh, honey, you can take a few, but I don't think it's wise to bring all of them with you-" Emmie sobbed, sniffling loudly. "I don't know how you feel about it, but do you honestly want to be carrying all of these toys back and forth from the ship?"

Slowly, she shook her head. She still said, "I dunno… Some might get lonely…"

"They'll be fine," Sansa said firmly. "Now, let's pick out your favorites. Then when you dock the next time, you can take the others with you." Emmie nodded, scrubbing at her face and following the redhead to her things. Scarla scooted over and sat beside her sister as Sansa started helping her go through her things. It took quite a bit of time, but she finally persuaded Emmie to only take a few belongings, a handful of dresses, and her favorite cushion to rest her head on. Scarla was much easier than her sister and had everything picked out in minutes. _Secondwind_ had almost stopped completely.

Sansa started bidding the girls out to the deck. Each of them hugged her tightly, mumbling words of how they'd miss her and to come visit _Secondwind_ anytime she wanted and finally, the girls disappeared from sight. Jacelyn gave her the most grateful look Sansa had seen and she said, "I can't thank ya enough. Those two…" She shook her head and continued, "Thank ya. Saved me much headache."

"I am most grateful for letting me join your little group," Sansa said, reaching over and hugging the dark haired girl.

Jacelyn squeezed her back and murmured quietly, "It's never a problem… _Milady_."

The redhead froze and pulled back. The girl looked a bit smug as she stared at the Clegane Lady. Sansa worked her mouth for a few moments and finally asked, "How?"

"Ya husband. 'e is obvious. No one in Westeros don't know them scars." Sansa flinched. She had worried that might be a problem. She went to say more, but Jacelyn cut her off with a raise of her hand. "Go now. We may see each other again, we may not."

Slowly, Sansa nodded. She reached out and squeezed Jacelyn's hand. "If you ever need a place to go, you are welcome with my family. Whether it's in High Garden or I go home to Winterfell. Where I am, you will always be greeted with open arms." Then she turned and pushed open the door.

By now, _Secondwind_ had stilled completely. The men were all working together, tying down the ship at the harbor and moving barrels. Jacelyn followed Sansa out, yelling out orders to bring the barrels from the kitchen. Sandor wasn't on the upper deck. She felt a wave of panic, worried that perhaps he had fallen overboard somehow or he'd disappeared or kidnapped or-

Sandor's voice cut through her building wave of panic. "Bloody hells girl, move before he tramples you over." She spun around, immediately looking him over to make sure he was injured or hurt. Then her gaze focused on the figure next to him; a black horse. She recognized the horse as the one he rode usually. Stranger, if she remembered correctly. Had he been on board the entire time and just where had he been at? Remembering his words, she stepped to the side, still openly staring at the horse. Sandor took hold of her arm gently and tugged her forward. "Stranger'll kick at you if you walk anywhere, but beside me. Don't take kind to anyone really." She sent the warhorse a quick glance.

Finally, she asked, "Are we finally docked then? I haven't really felt the ship move…"

"Aye. Been stilled for a bit now. Haven't seen a sign of this Lord you got us sent to." Sansa almost flinched away from him at the mention of this "Lord" Lord Willas.

"I'm not sure if he was planning to meet us at the dock or if there would be someone else waiting," she admitted, almost timid in her words. She heard the Hound muttering under his breath, most likely something about the idiocy of her plans. She almost bristled, but she took a deep breath to calm herself and bit off her retort.

Sandor stopped Stranger and turned to the redhead. Without a word, he took the rucksacks in her hand and tied them to Stranger's saddle. She turned her attention towards the docks, attempting to make something out in the darkness. Aside from a dim light and what looked to be a man as the night watch, there was nothing else Sansa could see. She sighed, a bit frustrated, and started to turn back to her husband. He surprised her by gruffly saying, "Stop." She froze immediately. To her surprise, he took a hold of her and lifted her into Stranger's saddle. She squeaked in surprise, but immediately situated herself as he set her in the saddle. Stranger snorted, shaking himself out and made a noise that sounded awfully like a grumble, but with Sandor's grip on the reigns, he didn't even protest having someone else on his back.

"What should I do if Lord Willas-?"

"You don't have to be walkin' to greet the cunt. Use all your damn pretty words once we arrive at the Keep," he rasped, an annoyed expression flickering across his face. She ducked her head, feeling her cheeks flame. She knew how much he hated the words she was taught as a child. He preferred to be blunt, crass, and a bit crude. It was definitely something she knew would need to be worked on if they would return to Winterfell. Trying to imagine what the other banner men might do if he spoke to them as he did now was a bit terrifying.

An incline was lowered from the boat closest to the dock. Sandor tugged on the horse's reigns and began to walk them across the deck. Sansa tensed at the first step, wondering just what Stranger might do. The warhorse didn't seem at all interested in her, content to do nothing, but follow his true rider. The step down was the second hardest part. The plank they were using to unload seemed so small. She couldn't imagine trying to roll all these barrels down or even walking with them over the shoulder as a few of the crewmen were doing.

When Stranger took the first step onto the plank, Sansa squeezed her eyes shut and tried to focus on anything, but the movement of the warhorse. She distracted herself with focusing on some old scripture she had read as a child until the sound of the hooves clicked on stone rather than wood. She opened her eyes and took in her surroundings.

Already, she could smell the city.

It was such a change compared to King's Landing. There wasn't the smell of rotting food, the dead, or feces. Instead, she had the smell of the sea, flowering trees, and a hint of fresh fruits. She breathed in deeply, very content to smell fruit and flowers compared to King's Landing. She wished she could see where they'd docked, what city they were near and if there was something coming to greet them.

Sandor turned to her and reached up to tug the hood of her cloak over her head. "Tuck in that hair of yours. Don't need anyone thinking who you are before we got you safely behind walls," Sandor muttered. He was barely shorter than she was sitting on Stranger. She almost went to touch him, his face or his hair or something, but when she started to reach out, she curled her fingers back in and tucked her hand back to her side.

"Thank you," she mumbled, tucking in her hair so no one could see the bright auburn locks.

He went to say more, but the Captain, Eustace, ambled up to them. He was a larger, aged man, with a rounded belly, a grayed beard, and kind eyes. He almost reminded her of her father at some points. "Thank you very much, for giving us such safe passage," Sansa said immediately, a polite smile on her face.

He reached out and patted her hand, replying, "No trouble at all, my dear. When the Queen of Thorns reached out for me, I very well couldn't leave a girl like ya trapped with those damned Lions. They been making it damn near impossible to dock there at all, much less do any business! Now, I sent word to Lord Willas we has arrived. There an Inn, not too far from here the whole crew'll be stoppin' at tonight to sup. We get ya'll a room and two men, Enger and Lenyl, be waiting with ya 'til Lord Willas' men be arrivin'. He'll meet ya outside the city and ride with ya to High Garden. Didn' want ta attract too much attention comin' in."

Sansa nodded. "That sounds like a wonderful plan. Sandor and I can rest up a bit more and maybe clean up some before meeting Lord Willas."

Eustace smiled and squeezed her hand. "That should be fine. I have Lenyl lead you to the Inn. Gotta make sure these dumb idiots don't screw up the cargo." He started off, muttering something under his breath that sounded awfully like, "Dumbasses… watching damn tides my ass…" Sandor's fist holding Stranger's reigns tightened noticeably. He had a heavy scowl on his face in the candle light, but he didn't say anything to her still.

It took very little time for Lenyl to manage through the massive crowd the crew had created at the dock. He grinned at both of them. Overall, Lenyl was a friendly looking fellow. He had thick, messy charcoal colored hair, a thin face, narrowed nose, thin lips and, when he smiled, she could see he was missing several teeth. He was very friendly and kind and she didn't mind talking to him too much. Nor did he seem at all afraid of Sandor. She had noticed several occasions when Lenyl would chatter on and on to Sandor while the ex-Knight simply grunted and glared. Sandor looked ready to maim him at times, but Sansa always tried to distract him so he wouldn't do anything that would upset Eustace.

Lenyl chattered the entire way while they started off the dock. She didn't really pay attention to what he was saying. She focused more on the fact the streets were completely dark and quiet, aside from the noises coming from the shadows of buildings she could make out. There were few candles lit in any place they passed. It was a bit unnerving, so much that it was obvious her grip on Stranger's reigns was tighter. She asked, "Lenyl, why are the streets so dark now? I know it's pretty late in the evening, but I expected more people and candles to be lit outdoors…"

"Aye, 'tis late in the evenin', love," he agreed, not seeming to notice the heavy glare the Hound sent to Lenyl, "Rule o' Highgarden been for ages. No one out past early evenin'. Keeps any-un from tryin' anythin' bad. Far as I heard it workin' well 'nough." Sansa nodded, briefly surprised. In fact, she felt relieved. All she kept hearing about Highgarden was almost the exact opposite of King's Landing. She wondered if this would be any better…

After passing several streets and making many turns, Lenyl stopped outside of a tall structure. There were still a few lights of the lowest level, but otherwise it was the rest was pitch black. Sandor helped Sansa off of Stranger and gruffly told their escort, "Get the girl a room situated, I'll get this bloody horse situated for the rest of the night."

"Aye, will get right to it then," Lenyl agreed, his head bobbing. He offered the redhead his arm. Hesitantly, she took it, shooting her husband a questioning look.

He didn't say a thing other than, "Get the hood pulled up girl. Don't need anyone recognizing that hair of yours." She agreed quietly, quickly readjusting the coarse fabric and tucking her hair in, and re-looping her arm with Lenyl. Without another word, the ex-knight tugged on Stranger's reigns and disappeared down an alley. She followed after the crew person quietly, unsure what she would expect after they stepped inside. She wondered if this was an Inn Captain Eustace frequented at when _Secondwind_ docked. Overall, both him and Lenyl seemed familiar with the establishment.

"Ready, love?" he asked, glancing at her. She swallowed, hesitating. After several moments, she nodded. He nodded in return and opened up the entryway. Slowly, he led Sansa indoors. She held her breath even as they stepped inside. She peered around the room first, quickly taking in the scenery. There were three windows to her left, five sitting areas, and a burning fire on the farthest wall. On the right, there were eight more sitting areas, another three windows, and four men sitting in one corner. To her relief, they didn't even look up when Lenyl and she stepped in.

Up at the front, there was a serving bar. It looked as if the area guarded the drinks, food, and the kitchen area. A lone man stood up front, wiping off the surfaces with a cleaning cloth. As they approached the front, Lenyl said, voice a bit loud, "Alyn, how it goin'?"

This man Alyn, with his sandy hair and stout figure, looked up immediately. A grin stretched across his face and he said, "Lenyl! Ya and the crew dockin' for a few days? Been a good few days. And how is the lady there with ya?"

"Woman and her man travelin' with Cap'n' Eustace. Got an audience with the Lord later. Any chance ya got a room 'vailable for ta evenin'?"

"Might be we have. How many ya needin'?"

"Just two. One of them and one for Enger and me when he arrives. Rest o' the crew'll be in later for a bite."

"Should be able to find ya a room. See wha' I can do."

"Thank ya. We grab a table and get one those gals of yours bring some 'freshments?"

"Aye, go right ahead."

He nodded his thanks, gently leading Sansa back over towards the left side of the room. The men there glanced up at them curiously for a moment, but no one seemed overly interested in her presence. She tried keeping her head ducked, even after she had sat down. The Inn door opened. Sansa tensed, waiting for a voice or some sort of sound if it was Sandor or some stranger. When the footsteps began approaching their table and Lenyl greeted the noise behind her, Sansa could finally relax. She touched her bump for just a moment, as a sort of reassurance. She dared a glance beside her. Sandor had his hood tugged over his head as well, obscuring the view of his scars.

"Shouldn' be too long till we get ya'll a room for tha evenin'. Know ya wanna be settled in quick as possible."

Sandor grunted in agreement. Sansa shot him a look and said quietly, " _We_ greatly appreciate this. I can't thank you enough."

"Nothing to worry of," he said, waving off her thanks. "Now, lets decide what ya'll would like to drink."

Sansa smiled briefly, glancing again at her husband. He met her eye for a moment then, to her surprise, he reached over and took her hand in his. "We're almost there," she whispered, smiling briefly.

"Aye, that we are," he agreed.

 **~A/N~**

 **Well, it took a bit of work, but here it is. I've been working on this back and forth for a bit now, tweaking small details and trying to get it just right, this also includes all the story changes as well. Not sure about the ending still, but I didn't want to go into much else detail, I figured the next part needed to be in the following chapter. Thanks for you patience, I'm working out the words as quickly as I can. You're all the best readers I could ask for!**

 **R &R**

 **XmX**


	7. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

Sansa woke up feeling warm and cold at the same time. She was wrapped comfortably in her coverlet, but she could tell instantly what was missing; Sandor. Wiggling around to check behind her, it was obvious the ex-knight had been gone for some time. The window only told her it was in the very early morning hours still. It was far too early to be up after so few hours of sleep. She yanked the fabric back over her head, her mood already going south.

She had no clue how long it had been since she'd been sleeping. It had been late in the evening by the time she and Sandor had wandered up to their rooms. Once she was off of Secondwind and away from the sway of the ship, her appetite had come back in full force. She wasted plenty of time eating everything that was placed out in front of her. Sandor had used the same time to drown down as much wine as he could get his hands on. By the time Sansa was full, Sandor had been drunk. Not just his mild drunk she was used to at King's Landing. Not even the angry drunk he got when they bickered. No, this time he was completely piss-drunk. She had never seen it as bad as she did then.

He couldn't even walk straight when she finally convinced him to lie down for the night. He had to lean against her as they made their way up the steps. By Gods, he was heavy! Her shoulders and back ached with each step. She could hardly keep him standing by the time he shoved open their door and they managed inside. He hadn't said a word to her, not even a thanks; he'd collapsed on the bed at once, mumbling under his breath and closing his eyes. She growled, growing more irritated by the minute.

She took the time to pull off his muddy boots so he didn't cover the mattress or the coverlet in dirt and decided to just leave him in his clothes. Grumbling under her breath, she stripped herself down until all she had on left was her small clothes. She was so exhausted, she didn't even bother trying to find her shift. After blowing out the candle, she crawled onto the bed and under the coverlet. It was taut when she tried to pull it across her body. She flopped down on the bed, feeling her frustration grow. It had taken quite a long time before she could fall asleep, only half covered by the fabric.

Sandor must have gotten up so quietly she hadn't heard him. She wrapped the coverlet closer around herself, feeling a bit sad. She almost hoped, being off the ship that he might want to wake up with her or at the very least kiss her or something… She sighed heavily and closed her eyes. It wouldn't hurt to sleep for just a bit longer. Surely Lenyl or Enger would let her know when it was time to get up…

The door to her room opened.

Sansa tensed immediately. She didn't dare move. Could someone be sneaking into her room? What would they want? She slid her hand as slowly as she could underneath the pillow, her fingers immediately finding the hilt of the dagger Sandor had given her. He hadn't warned her necessarily to keep the dagger on her while she slept, but she remembered hearing horror stories of women being raped or stolen in the Inn rooms, so she thought it best especially since Sandor had been so drunk.

The steps were heavier, definitely a man's footfalls. They came closer and closer to the bed. She wanted to turn her head, to see who might be coming over to her. Her grip on the hilt tightened. If she was correct, the footsteps were closer and closer to the opposite side she was lying on. She would wait, until they grabbed her, when they flipped her over to do whatever they would. She would go straight for the throat or his chest, if she couldn't reach it quick enough.

Wait, would the dagger even puncture straight through a chest?

She almost panicked.

But weight settling on the bed brought her out of the thoughts. She waited, wondering when they might strike. Maybe she should just go for it first. With a surprise like that, surely she might be able to get an advantage… She squeaked in surprise. The stranger had wrapped their arms around her bare waist.

Except she recognized the arms. She had laid in bed many nights, tracing that skin and memorizing every scar. She released her grip on the dagger and relaxed at once. With a soft sigh, she stretched herself out and settled as closely to the Hound as she could. "You up, Little Bird?" he rasped quietly, lightly tracing the skin of her growing bump.

"G'morning," she said, suddenly yawning widely. She snuggled down in the blankets, feeling warmer and much more content. "Where did you disappear off to this morning?" She let her eyelids close again, a small smile on her face. She noticed his fingers had begun to travel a bit, running lightly across her ribcage and much lower than her bump. She almost shivered at his soft touch, wondering if he wanted her.

"Got us a bath drawn room next to us."

She perked up a bit at that. "Is it hot?"

"As much as you want it to be," he mumbled, his scruff pressed against her skin. She felt his fingers dance across the very underside of her right breast. She almost arched into his hand, eager to feel him touch her more. His other hand pushed aside her small clothes, running one finger in her slit and brushing against her nub. She made a noise, half protest and half whimper, as he began to explore further up again.

When he gently ran his fingers teasingly over a puckering nipple and he slid his finger between her legs, she finally moaned softly, " _Sandor."_ He didn't respond to her word, his fingers nimbly finding all the right spots to play with. He spread her folds and pressed against her sensitive nub, while slowly working one finger inside of her. His other hand danced across her skin, toying with her hard nipple while also greatly teasing her. She reached out to touch him, find some sort of solid presence to keep her from shattering and falling, but when her hand found his arm…

He wrenched away from her as if her touched had burned him.

She froze immediately, so stunned by his actions that for a moment she couldn't comprehend what had happened. It took that moment for her to fully understand what Sandor had done and, by the time she did, she shoved aside Sandor's arms and sat up. "Maybe I should go," she said her voice tight.

She heard him sit up even as he said, "Fucking hell's, Little Bird-"

"No!" She was surprised by the strength in her voice. "I don't want excuses. I understand you're upset that I didn't tell you about all of this sooner. I get that it was horrible of me to scheme with the Tyrells and not tell you. I should have been up front with you from the start, from that first moment I found out I was with child. But I didn't. That still doesn't give you an excuse to not speak to me for so long, nor to touch me only when you think it's okay! You need to understand what it means to be upset while you're married! You talk and communicate, you understand what each person was thinking and you get over it! I'm done. Just… let me know when you decide to be a grown man too." She stepped out onto the floor, quickly finding her cloak, a fresh change of small clothes and the dress and underclothes from before and added over her shoulder, "Thank you for having a bath drawn up. I'm sure I'll enjoy it just fine by myself."

She wrapped the cloak around herself enough to cover herself up and slammed the door behind her. The room next to theirs was probably Lenyl's, so she knocked and waited. When no one came to the door, she opened it a crack and peeked in. The washing bin was there in front of her, steaming and looking extremely enticing. She put the clothing in a neat pile by the bin, stripped off what little she had left for covering and finally sank into the scalding water with a long sigh. It was the first times he felt somewhat clean since boarding _Secondwind_.

There were several tense moments where she waited to see if Sandor would barge into the room. But the longer she sat there and waited, the more she finally started to relax. She sank into the water, feeling at peace in the quiet of the morning. The longer she stayed in the hot water, the more her thoughts began to pop up. There was a bit of guilt gnawing away at her conscious. She knew how long it had been since Sandor had bathed properly too. After all that time, even he would want to bathe. She knew she needed to be stubborn though. She was tired of his attitude, of him acting like a scorned child. She understood why he was upset, but he needed to learn to forgive and move on.

She shook her head and pushed the thoughts aside. There would be more time for that later. So, she set about to scrubbing off the grime and dirt on her skin. She did so until her skin was pink and finally feeling clean. Then she started to work on her hair. She undid the braid from yesterday and ran her fingers through her wet locks to ensure all the snarls were out. There was even scented water to use to clean her hair. It smelt of lavender. She lathered her hair in the smell until it was clean and rinsed out thoroughly. She would have loved to soak in the water longer, it was still very warm, but she could see some of the grime in the water and thought otherwise.

She patted herself down with the drying cloth as best as she could, shivering slightly in the chilled room. When she slipped on the dress, she cringed a bit from the fabrics since they felt a bit dirty despite their clean appearance, but she told herself she could be in clean silks once she was at High Garden. Lacing up the dress took the longest amount of time, trying to loosen her waist while also keeping her bust tighter. She'd gotten better at doing the laces by herself, but she still struggled at times. Her hair was next and by far easier. She kept it in a simple plait. Traveling certainly didn't encourage her hair to stay pretty, so a simple plait was easier while they were on the run. She decided it would be best to put on her cloak and tuck her hair in again, at least until she knew who was awake.

Once she was certain every lock of hair was tucked into the fabric, Sansa slowly started her way down the steps to the dining area. When she peeked down below, she noticed immediately only Lenyl and Enger, another older man with greying dark hair and several scars across his face. With a relieved breath, she started down the steps and smiled brightly at crewmen. "Good morning," she greeted, settling down on an open spot on the bench and tugging down her hood.

"How ya feelin' this morning, m'lady?" Enger asked, grinning at her and reaching over to serve her up a plate. Lenyl poured her a cup of water to drink while Enger piled on her plate.

"There's no reason to do that," she said, giggling and trying to wave away their help. "I'm capable to feed myself."

"Ya never eat 'nough for ya and the youngin', so no worry 'bout it none." Enger sat a heaping platter in front of her, consisting of a mix of fruits, many choices of meat, and several slices of bread. There was even a side of gravy that smelt delicious. She couldn't remember anything smelling this good in King's Landing. The smells alone made her mouth water.

She could feel her cheeks heating up and ducked her head. "Thank you then," she murmured, tucking into the platter of food. The first bite was heavenly. She ate a strawberry first, such a bright red color and so plump. Unlike King's Landing, where the fruits were dull and a bit wilted, when she bit into this strawberry there was a flood of juices and flavors. The flavor alone could have made her moan. Every bite she took was more delicious than the last. Whether, it was an apple or peach or the gravy she dipped a pork slab was so different from King's Landing. She consumed the entire platter without stopping, practically breathing in everything in front of her.

Lenyl and Enger made conversation among themselves mostly while she ate. When she was down to a few buttered loaf slices, she listened more intently on what they were saying and nibbled on the soft bread. They talked about plans with their next voyage and where they would be heading off to next. Sansa piped in with a question if she didn't recognize what they were saying. Lenyl seemed more than eager to include her in the conversation and broaden her knowledge of the world.

When Sandor finally ambled down into the hall, an angry scowl on his face and still smelling a bit like the ocean, he sat down at their table beside Sansa without a word and started piling the food onto his platter. She stiffened immediately as soon as he sat beside her and she deliberately turned away and continued the conversation with Lenyl, who had stopped mid-sentence at Sandor's arrival. Enger and Lenyl seemed to notice the tense silence between her and the Hound, but neither of them made mention of it.

They were back in the middle of discussing the upcoming voyage with Sandor brooding beside her, when the door to the kitchens opened and Alyn walked out. He had a slip of parchment in his hand and walked straight up to Lenyl. At once, the crewmen stood up to meet him. Alyn announced quietly, "Lord Willas send word to meet three miles north of town. They be there soon."

Enger nodded and told Sansa, "Get bags from upstairs. We head out soon. Ya get Stranger ready to ride," he added to Sandor. Sansa smiled at Lenyl and Enger, but refused to look at Sandor when she turned to head upstairs. Thankfully, when she opened up the door, their room was still basically spotless. She took the time to spread out the coverlet, then scooped up the two packs she and Sandor had been carrying since King's Landing, and hurried down the steps. Lenyl and Enger were paying Alyn for their stay and food.

She wished she could pay for their passage, but she knew it was no use. Sandor had a bit of coin, but whenever she'd tried to offer any payment, the crew had insisted everything had been paid for. She was sure Lady Olenna was behind all the payment. How much had it worth to be a tool in Joffrey's murder?

Lenyl was at Sansa's side the moment she stepped off the stairs. He took her arm gently and led her down a hall to the back of an Inn. As he was opening the door for her, he said, "We be out shortly. Gotta finish up with Alyn here, then meet ya up front with the Hound." Sansa nodded, glancing over at Sandor and Stranger with a wary look. Lenyl stepped back into the Inn, closing the door firmly behind him. Sandor glanced up at the noise, but barely looked at Sansa as he finished adjusting the straps and reigns on Stranger.

She walked up to him, still a bit wary, but figuring it was better to act like a grown woman. "Hand me the bags," he groused out when she was close enough.

"The least you could do was ask nicely," she muttered, handing off the bags. She didn't look up at him, but she did hear the growl that followed her statement. She ignored it and glanced back at the Inn. For several moments, all was quiet. There was little morning light and not even the birds had awoken yet. She experienced a short, peaceful moment in the fresh air.

The Hound was kind enough to kill it.

"Turn around now, girl," he snapped. Sansa bristled, annoyed by his tone.

She knew she should have bit her tongue and just do as he'd asked, but being tired and cranky made her words looser. "Ask me nicely and maybe I will," she retorted, keeping her back to him and folding her arms across her chest. She could almost hear him snarling at her, but she refused to turn to him.

"We don't got all fucking day. Stop acting like a fucking child-"

She finally turned to him, glaring heavily. "I'm not some child, nor am I acting like one!" She ignored the fact that fairly shouting at him and not listening to him simply because of his tone was more than a bit childish. "I'm a married woman who is sick and tired of her husband treating her like she's some useless whore that he got stuck with. I'm more than tired of your crude words and childish antics of me not being able to touch you. I-"

"Do you want to meet this cunt Lord you've sent us to or are you going to sit here and snap all fucking day long till this damn fool comes and rescues you himself? I want to get you on this damn horse so we can get out of this fucking ass city and get into some other prison you've sent us to. Now, stay the fuck still so I can get you up on Stranger without him bucking you off and sit silent." By the seething look on his face, the corner of his lip twitched, and the anger in his eyes it was obvious he was at the end of his patience.

She worked her mouth for a moment, wanting to continue her rant, but knowing there wasn't time to argue. "Fine, let's get this over with," she said. She tensed when he stepped towards her. He snarled at her action, a look of absolute anger on his face, but also something more. The longer she gazed at him, the more she noticed a look in his eyes she hadn't seen before, almost like pain. As he touched her under her arms, she wondered in that instant if he regretted his actions.

But the moment was lost as he set her atop Stranger and turned away with a sharp word to the horse. She tried to keep still, moving with the sway of the horse, but Sansa was tense. She was upset because of the argument from this morning and also nervous for the first meeting of this Lord Willas. Everything was happening so fast, much quicker than she'd originally thought would happen. She had thought there would be more time on _Secondwind_ to work through what would be happening. Instead, they were here weeks faster and now their new home (prison?) was upon them.

When Sandor led them out of the alley from the back, Sansa spotted Enger and Lenyl at once. They were both in discussion, so distracted by the topic they almost didn't hear it as Stranger approached. Enger noticed them first and immediately dropped whatever conversation they were having. Enger told her, his voice deep, "We make quick for edge of town. Knowin' Lord Willas is eager to get ya to the Keep and under protection."

It made Sansa tense to hear him say that. The words made it sound way too much like she was a prisoner once more, but she tried to relax. She knew King's Landing had bothered her more than she ever let on. She needed to give this new place a chance, a possibility for freedom.

She just hoped she wouldn't regret her choices.

 **~A/N~**

 **And on it continues. It's getting extremely exciting, I can't wait to write what life in High Garden would be like. I'm estimating close to the same amount of chapters for this fic, if it continues as I'm planning. There was some speculations as to how they got to High Garden so fast and why. It was necessary for the story line for them to get there sooner than later, otherwise it would have messed with the other future plots to work. There will be a decent explanation in the next upcoming chapter (chapter after maybe?). Either way, it will be explained.**

 **Thank you for sticking with it so far and any corrections my lovely readers point out! I always appreciate them.**

 **R &R**

 **XmX**


	8. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

Despite the fact Sansa was the only one on a horse, Enger and Lenyl made excellent time hurrying out of town. They were past the last buildings before the sun had a chance to peak over the horizon. Lenyl and Enger tried to chat up Sandor and Sansa both, but only Sansa really tried to make conversation. Sandor was walking Stranger silently, brooding and looking angrier than usual. Sansa almost wanted to talk with him, try to ease out the argument from this morning so she had someone on her side. Still, when she reflected on what he'd done this morning and how he'd spoken to her, Sansa was easily able to square her shoulders and continue to talk with Lenyl without worrying about Sandor.

If he wanted to, he could easily apologize and move on. It was his choice to be angry still.

The sun was just beginning to rise into the sky and the air had started to warm by the time the small group had made it into the countryside. Sansa spotted several figures up in the hills and assumed that was where they were meeting. As if to confirm her thoughts, Lenyl pointed to them and made comment, "Them be Lord Willas' men. Lord Willas be with them to greet. Tha ride be long, may be half day or so to return to the Keep."

Sansa nodded and thanked Lenyl, but inside she was a bundle of nerves. In a brief instant, she wanted to reach out to Sandor for reassurance, but, instead, she touched the little bump showing through her dress. She could feel the light flutter in her belly that told her the child was moving about. That brought a smile to her face and eased a sliver of troubles. It never ceased to amaze her of all the differences from those weeks ago when she hadn't a clue there was a child to begin with.

Still, the figures in the distance distracted her more. She couldn't keep her eyes off of them, watching as they slowly got closer and closer to her new companions (keepers?). The urge to turn and go with Sandor, make their own way to the North, was almost overwhelming. She banished the thoughts as quickly as they came to mind; she couldn't risk offending Lady Olenna or High Garden by not accepting their hospitality. There were enough enemies in King's Landing; she certainly didn't need to create another.

The little band from High Garden had begun to ride up to them. Sansa focused on the carriage behind a wall of men. Was Lord Willas in there? Or was he one of the men riding upon the horse? There were seven knights in front of the carriage, all wearing helms and heavy armor. She wasn't able to distinguish many of their features, but she could assume none of these would be the current Lord of High Garden. Lenyl's reaction to the knights, how he bowed and offered the letter from Alyn, confirmed her suspicions.

One knight took the offered letter, confirmed the authenticity of the signature, and whistled sharply. Another man she hadn't noticed, a squire perhaps, walked over to the carriage and knocked on the door. Her breath caught in her throat in a moment of fear and she pressed one hand against her belly out of protective instinct. Sandor had shifted, so he had a better range to protect her. She couldn't stay upon the saddle now, she knew that. "Help me down," she whispered, already swinging her leg over to one side of the saddle to slip down. He glared and almost started to argue with her. But she was quick and he didn't have much choice to help her down the rest of the way. Her belly just barely got in the way trying to slide down herself.

When she focused her gaze again through the knights, Sansa saw Lord Willas for the first time. He was clearly a Tyrell. He had the same thick, curling brown hair Margaery had, though his was much shorter and neatly trimmed back, and a dusting of scruff purposely cut short. The closer he got, the more details Sansa could pick out. He had a detailed, clean tunic that looked prettily stitched and fresh breeches. He looked much younger than she knew he was and for a moment, she almost thought she'd mistaken him for someone else. But then he started to come forward and she knew it was Lord Willas; he had the obvious limp Lady Margaery had told her about.

He should have been the most handsome man she had met, more than Loras Tyrell even.

Instead, she felt a small pool of dread. The last boy she had thought of as "pretty" and "handsome" had turned out to be a monster.

"That's him," she whispered to the Hound, glancing at her husband. "Come forward with me and, _please_ , be polite." Then she settled a well-practiced smile on her face and started forward. She threaded her fingers together in front of her, almost cradling the small, but obvious baby bump. Sandor was a few steps behind her, but she didn't look back at him. Now was not the time to seem nervous. She needed to look strong.

They met in the middle, the two crewmen and her husband beside Sansa and the seven knights almost surrounding Lord Willas. Sansa dropped into a curtsey at once, not quite as graceful as she had been before she was carrying a child. Peeking from the corner of her eye, she noticed Sandor had sort of bowed as well, a tip of his head and one hand on the hilt of his sword. She stifled a sigh; it was as much as she could expect.

As she straightened up, Sansa said, "Lord Willas Tyrell, it is a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Lady Sansa Clegane nee Stark, the pleasure is mine." He bowed to her and, as she offered her hand in formal curtesy, pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles and rose once more. Then he bowed to Sandor beside her and said, "I am to assume this is Ser Sandor Clegane."

"No Ser here," Sandor grunted, adding, "Milord," at Sansa's sharp look.

She turned to Lord Willas, expecting anything, but the smile he gave her, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. He continued, "Yes, my grandmother had told me everything there was to know about each of you and what all had transpired at King's Landing. It is a shame that a boy so young could have been so terrible to anyone."

"What else do you expect from placing a fucker like him upon the throne?" Sandor groused. Sansa flushed at his words, very embarrassed and a small wave of anger. Hadn't she just told him to be polite?

Sansa offered, "Please, excuse his manners. It's been quite a trip for both of us."

Willas didn't seem to be the least offended by his words. He told her, "I can't imagine how either of you feel. Let's get you off of your feet and to the carriage. It will be quite the trip to the High Garden keep."

"Of course, I will just need a moment to thank Lenyl and Enger…" She turned to the crewmen and grinned. Although unlady-like, she didn't mind hugging both men goodbye and thanking each quietly. Lenyl squeezed her tightly, telling her she was welcome aboard anytime. Enger was more polite and wished her the best. At an insistent nudge, Sandor reluctantly spoke with each, sounding a bit annoyed, and shook each of their hands. The crewmen bid their goodbyes, bowed to Lord Willas and expressed their gratitude, and hurried off to get back to _Secondwind_.

Still a bit tight-lipped from her husband's attitude, Sansa returned her attention to Willas. The welcoming smile returned to his face and he told her, "There should be room for both Clegane and yourself to ride. With so much to discuss, I imagine it would be best if you both rode. One of the squires can certainly ride your horse."

"Won't be getting no man of yours on Stranger. He'll only let me and what's mine ride," Sandor growled, sounding angry. Sansa turned and glared at him.

"Perhaps you should ride Stranger then," Sansa said, her voice clipped, but still polite. "I'm sure Lord Willas and I can handle these affairs without you." The Hound was out now, looking angry and glaring down at his wife in front of him. She met his gaze without blinking, until he groused out his consent and turned to get upon Stranger, his back stiff.

Lord Willas watched their interaction with a polite look on his face. She managed to smile once more and said, "If you'll lead the way…"

"Of course, Lady Sansa. This way." He offered her his arm, which she took politely. She could feel Sandor's gaze on her back, but she refused to look at him.

Willas Tyrell filled the silence with polite conversation. "I'm hoping your travels weren't too long. Captain Eustace had sent me a letter with his route to get to High Garden and he felt confident to be able to get here so quickly with the tides he'd gone through…"

"I was very surprised when they told me how quickly we would get here. It's curious, from rumors I assumed it would take months to be here," she supplied, unsure what to say.

He chuckled. "Yes, he's surprised many of his passengers over the years. It's quite an interesting story in fact- please, watch your head, the ceiling is low." Sansa took his warning and carefully stepped into the carriage. The small space was cushioned comfortably, with soft seats and an abundance of pillows to lean upon. When she had settled down, he rapped once on the carriage door and they were off. Lord Willas continued, "Captain Eustace came into High Gardens' service many years ago. He was a fresh sailor then and boasted of his abilities to travel across the seas quicker than anyone else. My Father, Mace Tyrell, wanted proof of his ability, so Eustace did just so and traveled with a ship of supplies for the Wall. He came back, quicker than anyone thought physically possible. He continued with this game for years and it took many more after that before he would confide with me of his secret. He had discovered these tides that had to be impossible. If a man could steer his ship in just right, the ship can tavel leagues faster than any winds could carry them. Of course, being myself, I needed to question Eustace about these tides. He told me of an old story of mermaids and how they lured men out to the oceans to consume their humanity. I looked through every book I had on hand and found the story he was talking of. The script did speak of 'magical' tides to help the mermaids swim quickly to their prey. The existence of these tides should be nearly impossible, but time and again, I've witnessed what Eustace is capable of."

Sansa folded her hands in front of her and nodded. "That is very impressive indeed." She made a mental note to ask about this book at another time and, to change the subject, she added, "I have to express my gratitude for helping out my husband and I-"

He interrupted her, "Nonsense. There is nothing to worry about. The right thing was to help you and your husband away from the late Joffrey Lannister."

"That means he's dead then," she murmured quietly, her eyes on the floor.

"That he is," Willas agreed. She didn't respond to his words, feeling a bit numb. That confirmed her suspicions; the hair net Lady Olenna had given her held the poison.

"Was it the Strangler?" she asked suddenly, looking up and meeting his brown eyes. He nodded, silent. She didn't say another word, looking out the window.

After several long moments of tense silence, Willas added, "I would like to congratulate you. A child is a wonderful gift to have."

Sansa touched the swell, a brief smile on her face. "Yes, I'm quite excited. I do hope to be back in my home in Wintefell before the time comes, but to win back my home in less than five moons…"

"Anything is possible," he said, an encouraging smile on his face. "That being said, there are many things to be done when we arrive back to the Keep. I had a chamber prepared for you and your husband. You'll have the evening to settle in and get comfortable. If you're wanting to, feel free to explore the Keep and the gardens surrounding. I want to make this very clear; you are not a prisoner here. Grandmother did not send you here to be kept as a bargaining chip. If at any time you would like to leave, you can. I just ask for some time, so I can have a scouting party sent out with you."

Sansa wanted to sag in relief at his words. At the same time, she hesitated. All of this almost seemed too good to be true. "Why is your family helping me so? Not that I am ungrateful, I could never express how much I appreciate this. I would just like to understand why…"

"You are one of the few Starks left to claim the North. There hasn't been sight of King Robb Stark yet, so you are one of our last few connections to the Stark Family. We want to ensure the end of the war in the Kingdome. Not only that, but House Tyrell owes you a great debt. With the debt and our hope of an Alliance, we hope to bring peace back to the land."

Sansa nodded, listening carefully. These next steps would be extremely important for the future of Winterfell. "I appreciate your help with this situation. My plan is to find out what happened to Robb, as soon as I can. If I can find him and help him come home, that would be best. Once found, Robb will reward your family as best as he can for helping me, but at this time I can't make any promises on what that will be."

Willas laughed and waved a hand. "Don't worry about any rewards or if you will be in debt to my family. You helped us and in return, we did the same. We will give you a safe home to stay as long as you would like. I will give you a small traveling party to follow you towards the North as protection. You will not go hungry, your husband will be treated as the highest of lords, and if you decide to stay until the child is born, I will provide you with the best Maester to see you through. Lady Sansa, your brother is still King of the North. _You_ are the North's Princess. What treatments you went through in Kings Landing will not be done here. I promise you are safe."

Sansa nodded slowly and said, "Thank you." Even so, she didn't trust his words, not truly.

"You are very welcome, my dear. Now, once you are settled in, I will have High Garden's Maester come and see how you are carrying. From my understanding, you've yet to see anyone since you learned you are with child. I'll make sure you are in the best of health and that you are carrying well. I'll also look for a new Maester for Winterfell. When Winterfell was sacked, many people perished and it will do us no good to send you home with no one to assist in caring for you and your baby's health."

"That would be wonderful," she agreed, trying to keep up with everything he was saying while avoiding any thoughts of Winterfell. She kept her focus three people; Sandor, their baby, and Robb. It was direly important to keep herself together until she was home in Winterfell. There wasn't time to break down over anything Sansa couldn't fix now.

Lord Willas continued to talk about High Garden, telling her of ideas and plans and what she might enjoy most of the Keep. She smiled and responded to his words, but it was obvious Lord Willas knew she was trying to play. He told her eventually, "Lady Sansa, I don't expect you to sit here and make polite conversation with myself. I brought plenty to read and food to eat. Feel free to do as you like. I'm sure you've a lot to think on. I even brought some well-educated scripts on carrying a child, if you'd be interested."

"… Yes, that would be quite nice. I'm afraid I'm not sure if the books I was provided with were the most dated scripture."

Lord Willas leaned down and picked up a pile of books at his feet and handed them over to her. Then, to her surprise, he pulled out another pile to sit beside him. Sansa's mouth quirked into a smile at the sight. During one of their strolls, Margaery had told her of Willas' love of reading, as well as his many other interests. It was good to know Margaery hadn't lied to her about that.

Sansa turned her attention to the books beside her and took the one on the top. She wanted to focus on the script in front of her, but her eyes kept wandering to the opening, almost hoping to see sight of the Hound riding nearby. Her mind thought of Sandor, of him riding upon Stranger while here she sat surrounded by pillows and books. What did he think about while he rode his warhorse? Did he wonder about her in the carriage? Would he worry? Or would he just brood on his anger and frustration from this morning?

She shook her head and tried focusing more on the book in her hand. Now wasn't the time to think about that. It was time to focus on her child and that alone. It was important to read these texts and make sure she hadn't been doing anything wrong. Sandor and their relationship would come after. It needed to be that way. She tried to convince herself of that, anyway.

 **~A/N~**

 **I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter. I'm honestly terrified on the next several chapters. Writing Willas makes me nervous. Because we never really got much for a real character of him, just descriptions for the Tyrell Family and a few snippets where he was mentioned. So, I'm trying my best. His character should branch out more as the next chapters come about. I'm honestly not sure how many chapters there will be. I know I have at least another five planned out and that depends on how each chapter flows or if the story line branches from the plan I have started.**

 **Thank you all for the support and reviews! It makes me smile much!**

 **R &R**

 **XmX**


	9. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

"Lady Sansa, will you please come outside? I would like to show you something." Sansa Clegane turned her attention to the carriage door, where Willas Tyrell had poked his head in. The carriage had finally stopped for the first time in many hours. He hadn't wanted to stop until they were to the Keep, to be able to return as quickly as possible. During that time, Willas had been nothing, but a gracious host. He offered her platters of food for her to nibble on, many drinks to choose from, and had left her be to her own devices. She wanted to be polite, make conversation with the man who had given her a place to stay, but it was hard to bring any words to her mouth. The thought of coming to a new place as strange to her as King's Landing had been was terrifying. Willas didn't seem to mind her heavy silence and kept himself busy with his own books to read, which she was grateful for.

Now that the carriage had stopped, it would be good for her to stretch out. Despite the comfortable cushions, her back had started to ache and she began to feel restless. She kept her head low as she stepped out, asking Willas, "How far away are we from the Keep?" She took his offered hand as she stepped out onto the luscious green ground. A bit off, the sound of a splashing stream reached her ears.

"Turn around, milady, and you'll see." Immediately, she turned her attention behind her and almost gasped at the sight. Everything was just as she had read as a child. The Keep of High Garden was beautiful. The castle was more beautiful than Sansa could have ever imagined. The tiered walls were tall, reaching high into the sky with tanned stones discolored by the sun. Ivy climbed across the walls, the leaves beautiful greens and a dusting of reds. From her view below, she could just barely make out the marble colonnades behind the walls surrounding the Keep. She couldn't see it from her place now, but she knew High Garden was full of the most beautiful foliage, trees, and flowers imaginable and so many groves she could be there for days. The smell of the air was sweet and fresh, like a ripe peach.

Sansa almost couldn't believe this was where she would be staying now.

Lord Willas continued, "I thought perhaps you'd enjoy seeing the sights of High Garden rather than riding in that stifling carriage the entire way up. I can take you as far as you'd like, but I wasn't sure if you would rather rest for the evening."

"I can't believe this is your home," she told him, focusing on a red stoned pathway in front of them. She took his offered arm once more and let him lead her onto the pathway.

"It will be yours as well. I hope to make you feel safe and secure and that you are welcome to anything and everything you should need."

"Thank you," she murmured, glancing over her shoulder towards the party that was riding up.

As if reading her thoughts, Willas offered, "I told my Squire to make sure Ser Clegane knows where we are headed. I thought it best if we walked to the Keep by ourselves. There are a few other questions I have for you. Also, Maester Lomys is willing to meet with you as soon as you are ready, if there is any particular time of the day…"

"Perhaps on the morrow. I would like to speak with Sandor first before deciding anything. If I could let you know in the morning…?"

"Of course, that should be just fine, milady." Willas had continued to speak, but she was no longer paying attention to his words. Sansa glanced over her shoulder and spotted Sandor, just as he was riding up to the rest of the group of Knights. His expression was stony, a mix between anger and a look of longing, as if he wanted to come after her. To her surprise, he didn't stalk after them or even call out to her. He turned his attention back to Stranger and didn't look back. She stared after him for a moment longer and eventually turned her attention back to Willas.

The walk to the Keep wasn't long, but there were plenty of sights to take in along the way. Every time Sansa spotted something of interest, Willas was quick to jump in and spin a tale. Whether it was a story of the troll under the bridge they walked, a great siege that had happened at that hill, or why the beautiful statue of one of the Gods had been placed there, he told her everything he could. She laughed at his tales when she knew it was expected of her and made obvious observations, but Lord Willas didn't seem to notice or else he didn't care that she wasn't genuinely interested.

Her mind was still focused on not breaking down in a panic. She was worried about this place, if it would be a prison where she would have to fear for the life of her child and husband. All she wanted was to believe that she was free as Willas stated, but any trust she had in people were gone. She felt the overwhelming urge to go hide again and it took all of her willpower to not go. Her grip tightened on Willas' arm despite herself. For a brief moment, Sansa wondered if he hadn't noticed, but then he placed his hand on hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"There is no need to be so worried," Willas promised, that warm, friendly smile back on his face. "If there's anything that you might need to talk about or do, just let me know. We have your best intentions in mind, both Grandmother and I. She understands what it is I expect out of this, despite some of her previous plans."

He led her through an archway in the shrubbery, pointing out a fountain as they passed. But her mind was still focused on his last sentence. "What do you mean previous plans?" she asked, her brows furrowing together.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it," he said. "We're almost to the entrance of the Keep. Would you like to explore or-?"

"What did Lady Olenna have planned before?" she asked, pausing and slipping her arm away from him. Willas was forced to stop as well, clear hesitation on his face.

"Lady Sansa, this really wouldn't be the time-"

"If you want me to be here, we need to be honest with each other. I won't stand to be where there are liars present. What did she want to use me for?"

"… I understand, Lady Sansa," he sighed, looking torn. "I'll explain as I walk you to your chambers. If you'll please…" She stared at his arm for a moment, hesitating, but by the look on his face she knew he would tell her. So, she placed her hand on his arm and let him lead her on.

For several long moments, Willas was silent. She watched him closely, until he finally sighed again and said, "My grandmother started planning this the moment she knew the Tyrell family would be going to King's Landing. She needed to get Margaery on the Throne and to do that they would have to cast you aside. She sent me a proposal by raven as soon as Joffrey had accepted Margery as his betrothed. She had had another plan in mind for you from the beginning." He had fallen quiet again, contemplating his next words. Sansa noticed the steps they were coming up to, beautiful white marble steps to match the colonnades, and wondered what her chambers could possibly look like. Everything here looked to be so lavished and organized, even more than King's Landing. She felt out of place in the well sculpted Keep and perfect gardens.

Would she ever feel comfortable again? Or would she have to wait until she was home in the North?

Willas started again, dragging her from her thoughts, "The letter contained the entire planning. Grandmother wanted to speak to you within the week, but Joffrey had made sure no one could get to you while they worked on the trial for Ser Clegane-"

"Please, call him Sandor. He is not an anointed Knight and I don't wish you to be on the receiving end of his temper when he points out he is no Ser."

"He's a very interesting man," Willas chuckled.

Sansa smiled and murmured, "Very interesting, indeed." She cleared her throat and said, "As you were saying…"

"Yes, yes. She had wanted to speak with you, to discuss a possible alliance with our family… between you and I."

Sansa almost blanched at the suggestion. "W-why would she want me?"

"To get you out of King's Landing, milady. I have been part of her plans since I was born. She has had me waiting for a wife until she finds the right alliance for House Tyrell. For a short period of time, Grandmother thought you would be perfect. Aligning our Families as one, with the connections across the realm my family has and you as one of the last Stark members and key to the North. It would have been the best political marriage any of us could have imagined."

"Joffrey would have found a way to ruin it. More likely than not, the Queen Regent would have found a way to tie me into the Lannister Family, so I had no escape," Sansa said softly. "Joffrey took that from his Mother, because he wanted to torture Sandor and I both. I half imagine Joffrey thought 'his Dog' would have killed me before long. He doesn't know Sandor as I do."

"… Milady, are you happy with your marriage?" Willas paused, as they were turning on one of the many corridors they had passed. For some time they had been walking inside of the Keep where everything was brightly lit and beautiful artwork hung on every wall.

"What are you asking me, Lord Willas?" she asked.

"If, for some reason you weren't happy, I could find a way to help you away from Sandor Clegane."

"You would do what, milord?" she asked, her voice short. "Murder my husband? Poison him in his sleep? Or send a hired knife after him? Many young ladies like myself have been married to strangers and to someone much worse. I know Sandor; he's nothing, but kind and gentle to me. He has a bit of a temper, but he has never harmed me or told me anything that wasn't true. He will never lie to me."

Willas bowed his head immediately. "My apologizes, Lady Sansa. I did not mean any offense."

She looked at him for some time, feeling a protective wave wash over her. Eventually, she inquired, "Am I welcomed here as you truly state? Can I be completely honest with you?"

"Of course," he answered immediately.

"I want to make something very clear. Robb is my King and I am his sister, a Princess of the North. Sandor Clegane is my husband, married to me, and, by that marriage, he is a Prince of the North. While we are both here, he will be treated as nothing less. There is no harm to come to him." She paused and gave him a poised smile before continuing, "Remember, the North never forgets. If anything happens to him, I will make sure vengeance will be brought to those who harmed him." She kept her face neutral and stood there, her back straight and her fingers twined in front of her little bump. She felt a small thrill at seeing the surprised look on his face.

They stood there, staring at one another for many tense moments, and then Sansa smiled again and asked, "How much further to my chambers, milord?"

"J-just down here, milady," he said. He beckoned her forward, not offering his arm this time as he told her, "This is a pretty quiet corridor and down the hall, there are steps that will take you to a tower at the very top. This tower is one of our tallest and will let you see Highgarden and the Reach for all of its beauty. I shall not be too far from your chambers, just the tower over if you are ever in need of any assistance."

They stopped at the foot of a winding staircase. She gave him another pleasant smile and asked him, "Would you please send Sandor up this way? And shall we have the evening meal together or would you rather wait until we break our fast?"

"Let us break our fast together. I'm sure there is much to discuss with Clegane and more likely than not, you need to rest as well."

"I think that will be best. Thank you again, Lord Willas; both for your hospitality and your concern. If I ever have any need from you, I will let you know."

He bowed his head in acknowledgement. "There is no need to thank me, milady. Rest well this afternoon. I will send a few handmaidens up with some water and food in a bit. I hope to see both Sandor and you in the morning and please, let me know when you would like to see Maester Lomys."

"Of course, milord." With a final bow, Willas Tyrell turned back around and began to walk back down the hall which they had come, his limp more obvious now. Sighing softly, Sansa turned her attention back to the winding stairs that led up to her new chambers. "Well, this is our new home," she murmured softly, touching the swell for a moment. She started up the stairs slowly, running her fingers lightly across the rough, cool stone as she moved. Torches lined the spiraling stairs, flickering against the dark yellow stones and casting shadows against the walls. There weren't any windows in the stairway, so she hadn't a clue how far up she was until she reached the wooden door of her chambers.

Pushing open the door was like stepping into another world. Everything was so much different from the Red Keep in King's Landing, she couldn't help, but stop and gape at her surroundings. If she had thought the bedchamber she and Sandor had had before was lavish, she was extremely mistaken. This bedchamber was twice as large. At the left end of the chamber, in its own archway, lay a spacious bed covered in a coverlet of gold and silver with beautiful stitching of roses and thorns. The bed was covered with so many pillows Sansa doubted she'd ever use them all. To the right end was another archway, where a gold-encased washtub sat, along with the chamber pot, a small washbin and a looking glass in a golden frame hanging on the wall. Between the two arches was a balcony and, on that balcony, was cushioned benches covered in more pillows.

Sansa closed the door behind her slowly and turned. The walls behind her were lined with shelves filled with more texts than she had remembered seeing in a long time. In the far corner on the right, there was a desk shoved into the corner. On the left, there was a wardrobe squeezed into the other corner. Her fingers twitched to touch the spines of the books and to see what they were about, but she would have time for reading at another time. First, she wanted to see the outside.

Walking to the balcony, Sansa could see the true glory of The Reach. Everywhere she could see, the country side was covered in beautiful greenery. There were fields upon fields of golden roses. Below, she could see a whole cluster of trees beneath her balcony. The Mander was in the distance, the river looking smaller than she knew it was. If she squinted, she could make out the small boats that drifted around the river. The smell of peaches wafted up to her window, nearly making her stomach grumble despite all the food she had consumed in the carriage. Nothing here smelt of death or decay or something more foul. Highgarden was nothing, but beautiful flowers and trees and the ripest fruit.

She could have been there all day, settled on her knees and with her elbows resting on the ledge to view below. The wind blew, moist from the Mander, and she couldn't help, but sigh in pleasure. If she was being honest with herself, this was extremely relaxing. Sansa would be on edge for a while, but if everything went as Willas promised, she could learn to be comfortable in this new place…

For some time, Sansa continued to sit out at the balcony, staring at the scenery below her and enjoying the fresh smells. She was taking this moment to figure out her new life. Despite riding on _Secondwind,_ meeting Willas Tyrell, and now sitting in her new bedchamber, Sansa found it hard to believe she was safe. She just knew there had to be some sort of catch or reason behind this, even though she had helped murder Joffrey Lannister.

Behind her, the door to the chamber opened. She turned around, already knowing who to expect.

Sandor ambled in, arms laden with their bags and the books Willas had given her in the carriage. She got to her feet immediately to help, but, before she had a chance to, Sandor dropped the bags unceremoniously to the ground and deposited the texts onto the table in front of him. He didn't say a word to her as he looked over the room, almost as if he was deliberately avoiding looking at her. She swallowed, slowly asking, "How was the ride, Sandor?"

"As if you give a fuck," he muttered, glaring at her and started to walk away.

"Sandor!" she said in exasperation, following after him. He was almost to the washbin when she grabbed for his arm. At her touch, he wrenched away immediately, but, instead of glaring at her like he usually did, Sandor grabbed hold of her shoulder and shoved her up against a wall. She froze at once, eyes wide in shock. He had never touched her like that before.

"What the hell do you think you're trying to do?" he growled, looking angrier than she ever remembered him being. Before she could say anything, he hissed out, "You think I'm just that damn Dog from King's Landing who will get kicked around and come crawling back when the girl calls?"

She tried to get out, "I didn't mean to-"

But he barreled on through her words, grounding out the next words in a terrifying voice she had never heard before, "I won't be dismissed like some worthless animal who you don't want around anymore! If you don't want me around, girl, just fucking say it and let me be on my way. I'm sure you would rather the pretty little Lordling be your husband instead…" His grip tightened considerably, so much Sansa imagined she would bruise.

"What are you trying to say?" she asked, her voice shaking. "You don't think I'm trying to get rid of you, do you…?" She whimpered when he continued to squeeze her shoulders, his expression never wavering.

"Then, what the fuck were you doing, dismissing me and climbing into the fucking carriage with that cunt?!" There wasn't a time Sansa could remember the Hound being so angry at her. She couldn't bring any words to her mouth, could only stare back at him and try to figure out why…

Then, she saw it, in his eyes; fear. And she understood everything.

"Oh, Sandor," she whispered, reaching up to touch the unmarred side of his face. He didn't jerk away from her this time, though the corner of his lip twitched and he almost growled at her. "Never worry about me leaving. I won't dismiss you from my side or throw you away like some used up cloth. You are my family, the father to our child. It won't matter who it is; Willas Tyrell or Loras or any other man in this world. It is you that I want now and no one will take you away from me. Don't you ever doubt that I will want another man in my life."

The grip he had on her loosened and he bowed his head to rest on her shoulder. "Fucking hells, Little Bird," he rasped quietly. "I just-"

"You've had nothing, but hell for some time," she murmured, easily shaking off his hold on her shoulders and wrapping her arms around his neck. His arms found their way around her waist and he pulled her onto him as he sunk to his knees. She noticed he had begun to shake and closed her eyes. This wasn't fair, what he had to go through in his past. From the burns on his face and the japes at his appearance, he likely never thought he would have a family and a wife and a child who would all love him. She continued softly, "I'll make sure you never have to go through anything like that again. You're mine now and forever. My family, my life, and I won't let anyone take that away from you." The arms around her tightened considerably. She pressed a light kiss to his head and sat there in silence, waiting to hear what he might want to say.

For quite some time, they sat there on the floor without a word. It took some time, but eventually Sandor's grip loosened and he muttered quietly, "I don't mean to be a fucking shit all the time."

Sansa couldn't fight the grin that stretched on her face. "I wouldn't say all the time exactly. You have a temper that needs to be controlled and a bad habit of holding onto grudges, but we can work on that… I am sorry for lying to you. If I had thought there was another way, I would have told you about it sooner… Sandor, you can't hold onto this anger when I do something wrong. We need to communicate with each other. There isn't time for us to be at odds with the other."

"… Aye, Little Bird. I can agree with that," he rasped, finally lifting his head and meeting her eyes.

She leaned forward and kissed him chastely. She wished they had more time of silence, where they could kiss and Sandor could touch her and take her to their new bed. But a knock interrupted them. With a sigh, Sansa wiggled off of his lap and stood up. "Later?" she asked, smiling.

"Later," he agreed, standing up and, to her surprise, lifting her so he could kiss her fervently in a brief moment. After he left her standing there, hot and bothered and stunned by his actions, while he went to answer the door.

 **~A/N~**

 **Well, I hated how this chapter played out, but there wasn't much more I could have happening in this chapter and Sandor and Sansa needed to start moving in another direction. I just couldn't get the scene just right, despite rewriting it five times. Hopefully you all enjoyed the chapter, I'm hoping the next one will be out shortly!**

 **Thank you all for the reviews and favs/follows, it makes my day every time I see one.**

 **R &R**

 **XmX**


	10. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

Everything was warm and silky soft and Sansa wished she never had to get up. The sun was already shining through the window, disturbing her sleep because of a crack in the heavy fabrics covering the opening. She grumbled and reached out to tug the fabrics closed. "What the hell is that?" Sandor rasped behind her, irritated. He buried his face into her hair and spread his hands across her bare belly. Sansa sighed in content and snuggled deeper into the softest pillows she had ever slept with.

"The curtains must have been disturbed last night," she mumbled, answering his question. "I'm sure we will have to get up soon. Willas wanted to break our fast together today."

"Fuck that. He can wait as long as we want." She giggled and cracked open her eyes so she could peek over at him.

"I told you last night we needed to go this morning. Maester Lomys is going to check how I'm carrying this morning and I need to let him know when that will be best. You did still want to be there as well… right? I know you were a bit distracted last night after the evening meal…"

"I remember," he grumbled, pressing his lips to her neck and tracing his fingers from her belly and up her ribs. His thumb brushed the underside of her breast, nearly making her arch into his touch. She could feel his hardness pressing against her and, for a brief moment, she played with the idea of letting the morning slide away. He had already taken her three times in the room; at the washtub last night after he'd bathed, when they'd settled into the bed for the night, and then sometime this morning before the sun had begun to rise. And, while she certainly would enjoy another round…

She wiggled away from his touch and told him, laughter in her tone, "Not right now. We _need_ to get up." Sansa giggled at the displeased expression on his face and stood up. His eyes roamed over her nakedness, dark with want. She was unexpectedly pleased with his attention. Some days, she worried whether he truly found her attractive, rather than just the pretty she had always been complimented for. She _was_ years younger than him and perhaps he had certain tastes that she didn't meet…

A knock to the door interrupted her thoughts. Frowning, Sansa turned around to find her shift. Behind her, the bed creaked and Sandor ambled up beside her. He had already found his breeches from the night before and he had her shift in one hand and his sword in the other. The shift was passed off and then the ex-Knight was walking towards the door. Quickly, she managed the fabric over her head and padded over to the chamber door. Sandor had opened the door with a heavy scowl, but his sword was lowered, so Sansa assumed it was safe.

A little girl scurried in, her arms laden with fabrics. She couldn't be more than nine or ten, with wide hazel eyes and dark locks of hair piled up on her head in a sort of bun. She looked a bit terrified, likely from Sandor's brash attitude, and nearly froze when she saw Sansa standing there. "O-oh, milady," she squeaked out, dropping into an informal sort of curtsey. "L-lord Willas asked to bring these up for you. He was afraid neither of you had any clean breeches or tunics a-and to let you know food would be served soon."

Sansa smiled kindly and asked, "What is your name?"

"K-Kyme F-f-Flowers," she stammered, her hazel eyes widening impossibly more. _A bastard then_ , Sansa thought, crouching down so she could speak with her on an equaled ground.

"Thank you for bringing these up Kyme. I'm sure Sandor should be able to help me dress. Still, I don't believe either of us know our way around here. Would it be too much trouble to ask if you would be willing to escort us to the dining hall?"

"O-of course I can, milady. I will wait outside." She couldn't even look at Sandor as she handed off the fabrics, curtseyed and scurried out of the bedchamber.

Once Kyme was gone, Sansa shot Sandor a look of exasperation. "There's no reason to be so harsh here. I want to try to make a good impression in High Garden."

"As if I'd known the damn Lord would send a little girl here," he muttered, unlacing the breeches that he had yanked on hastily. "What do you got in the pile there?" Sansa found a plain dark tunic stitched with dark thread and darker breeches for Sandor, looking a bit on the large side. Underneath those, there was also a beautiful silk gown. The gown was made of beautiful browns and dark teals, very similar to one Margaery had worn in King's Landing, but, unlike the other gowns she'd worn there, this one was loose around her waist and gave her room around her rounding belly. It was a little big on her, but she certainly wouldn't complain.

It was easy to slip the gown over her head, but lacing it up properly proved to be another challenge. Sansa stopped and turned to Sandor, watching the ex-knight as he finished tying up his breeches. She cleared her throat and asked, "Is there any way you can help me with my laces?"

"Give me a minute, girl," he said, not looking at her yet. He slipped the tunic over his head, cursing. "The fuck does that damn Lord think? The damn tunic is twice my fucking size."

Sansa took one look at him and started giggling. "It swallows you whole." Because the tunic did, the dark fabric hanging off of him so much she could hardly make out his figure. Paired with that and the unamused expression on his face, Sansa only laughed harder.

Everything felt so light, so perfect. She was away from King's Landing. There was no terror to wake up in the morning to. No Joffrey to order the worst punishments upon her. High Garden was the first taste of freedom she had had in over a year. Now, Sandor and she were in a better place, they were expecting her first child and she started her first steps towards Winterfell.

She was _glorious._

Nothing could take away that feeling, even as Sandor groused about her teasing and attempted to lace up the top of her gown. Sansa couldn't fight the grin off of her face nor could she quit giggling about the tunic hanging off of Sandor's frame, despite his threats to carry her off to their bed and keep her there for a week. Paired with their bantering and Sansa basking in the freedom of her gown (nothing to restrict her breathing!), the Clegane family was running a bit late. It was doubtful Willas Tyrell would care too much at least.

Kyme was standing beside the chamber door, waiting for Sansa and Sandor to emerge. She still looked a bit terrified as she stood there and stammered out polite words Sansa was sure someone drilled into her head. As the group started down the stairs, Sansa managed to coax the gentle girl out of her shell with a few sweet words and giving Kyme all of her attention. She was the sweetest girl Sansa had ever met. She talked rapidly and with much vigor and stared at both her and Sandor with the widest eyes, as if they were out of some story. Despite their initial greeting, Kyme didn't seem the least bothered by the ex-Knight, even as he said little to her. He watched the interaction between the two girls and, for the first time, Sansa noticed the warm look in his eyes that made her smile.

The halls to the Keep were surprisingly quiet. She had thought the halls would be filled to the brim of people, chattering and gossiping and staring at an ex-Knight and a fugitive that seemed to show up overnight. It almost made her tenser to be this alone. Who would know if someone was lurking in the shadows, following hers or Sandor's every move? What if they decided they wanted to take care of the pesky problem she had become? What about the Lannister? Would they decide to pay enough coin for her head that someone would turn against House Tyrell and try to take her away?

"You'll be dining just down this way," Kyme said, interrupting Sansa's thoughts. "Lord Willas thought it be best to sup alone with him and Maester Lomys. This'll be one of Lord Willas' personal chambers." She stopped outside of a massive, decorated door. Someone had chosen to paint a beautiful, gold rose on the wood door, surrounded by fields of greenery and trees.

Kyme knocked on that door twice and stepped back. The door was opened almost immediately and, on the other side, stood an old man. He was hunched over a wood staff, in a set of deep green robes. The Maester's collar hung down just past his collarbone. _Far longer than Maester Luwin's had been_ , Sansa thought, feeling a twinge of sadness.

Remembering her manners, Sansa curtsied as best as she could and said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Maester Lomys."

He smiled, his face losing much of its age despite his heavy wrinkles, and told her, "The pleasure is all mine, Sansa Clegane. And you as well, Sandor Clegane."

To Sansa's surprise, Sandor said, "Thank you." His tone was nothing, but polite.

"Kyme, go find something to eat for the time being," Maester Lomys told the young child. She nodded, suddenly quiet again, and hurried out of the room. Sansa watched her go, and then turned her attention back towards the Maester. Willas must have stood up and walked over to the entry, for he was there now. When he saw Sandor, his mouth twisted into a grin.

"I apologize, Clegane. I didn't believe I'd have any tunics lying around that would fit your frame, so I'd hoped one a few sizes larger would fit you. Clearly, I'd overestimated."

Sansa saw his mouth twitch, but instead of scowling like she imagined, Sandor stated, "I've seen worse. I'll assume someone'll be around later to take measurements to make some new tunics, a jerkin, and for the Little Bird's new gowns as well."

"Of course I shall. Would tomorrow be acceptable? I just need time to let the seamstress know…"

"That should be fine," he conceded. Sansa watched the exchange, smiling. She couldn't be more pleased with the way Sandor was speaking.

Maester Lomys beckoned them into the room at that moment, where a small feast had been laid out. Sandor took her arm gently and led her forward. To her surprise, he pulled out her seat so she could settle in and then he was sitting beside her. Maester Lomys took a seat opposite of Sansa. Willas sat beside him directly from Sandor.

Willas made polite conversation with them both while food was being passed around and drinks poured. He asked about the food at King's Landing, what she had done to pass the time, how Sandor enjoyed being part of the King's Guard, and any other interesting happenings they might have to share about King's Landing. That felt strange to make conversation about and sometimes Sansa wasn't sure what to say. When questions directed to any abuse she might have endured, she froze up completely.

Sandor scowled heavily and snapped quite rudely, "Don't see how that's any of your business there. She's been through enough without having to worry about damn strangers prying into her past."

Sansa hunched down in her seat, focusing on the food in front of her, as Maester Lomys quickly stepped in. "He meant nothing by it, Clegane. There's been little to no news from King's Landing of what all happened since Lord Eddard's tragic death. We've only heard about Lady Sansa's marriage and what Lady Olenna has been able to supply since the Tyrell family arrived at King's Landing."

"And that's all you need to know," Sandor said, looking ready to argue even more.

Sansa finally stepped in, saying, "There's more than you could ever know. What needs to be said is the fact I willingly married Sandor Clegane, let him bed me freely, and then took Lady Olenna's help to escape an abusive prison, to protect my husband and my child both. Nothing else matters aside from that. What matters most is the future; I have a child I need to plan for, a sibling who is missing, and a home that I want to take back."

Willas smiled at her and said, "That is the main focus of this meal. I should not have gotten off track. First, let us discuss Maester Lomys taking a look over and seeing how you carry."

"When will the best time work for you, Maester?" Sansa asked, turning her attention to the aged man.

"I have someone who needs to be seen directly after this, but I could come to your chambers as soon as I am done? If that works for you, my lady," he said, smiling. His smile seemed to take the years off his face, despite his heavy wrinkles.

"That should be perfect," she agreed, grinning back. "Sandor wanted to be there, to see how everything looks…"

"If you wouldn't mind," Willas interrupted, "I'd like to take Sandor with me to our master-at-arms, in hopes that he would be able to help train some of our younger lads. After Maester Lomys is done with him, of course."

Sansa looked to Sandor, who had been busy eating his breakfast. At Willas' words, he paused, eventually, agreeing, "I can see to that."

"Excellent! Now, regarding Robb Stark…" Willas said, folding his hands in front of him. "We have no clue where he could be at. He and his direwolf were seen fleeing into the Riverland forests, but so far there has been no word of his capture or current whereabouts. There are a few options we have; I can send out a raven, see if perhaps word can reach him. It's unreliable, but a possibility all the same. Another options is I could send out scouts to the forests, it shouldn't take more than a few days for them to travel by horseback, and have a rotation every couple days to send my men home to rest. If that is best-"

"I think scouts would be best," Sansa interrupted her brow furrowing. "As a possibility, I could go with them, see if-"

Sandor growled, "Don't you fucking dare. I won't let you out there to be put in danger. You're likely wanted by the Lannisters, even after Joffrey's death."

Sansa started to protest, but Willas cut in, "Clegane is right. Word has already spread about your disappearance, as well as a rumor you were the one to kill Joffrey Lannister. We will keep you safe here, but out there in the forest, I can't guarantee anything."

"I don't believe it will be safe for the child to ride as hard as they would," Maester Lomys added.

"He can't just be surrounded by strangers," she argued. "If you find him, he won't trust-"

"I'll go with them," Sandor rasped, startling Sansa. She turned and looked at him. "He knows we are married, Little Bird. He'll at least trust that. And, if you have a letter to offer…"

Slowly, Sansa nodded in defeat, slumping back in her seat, her brows furrowing together and her hand gently rubbing against her rounded stomach. "Without word of Robb, I don't think we can worry about Winterfell for now. One of these days, I would like to sit down and discuss the news that has traveled from Winterfell. I want to know what happened with Theon and my brothers and any other rumor that has spread from the North. Nothing today, but soon." Absently, she reached out and touched Sandor's hand. Thinking of her home, of her lost family, made Sansa's eyes sting and a pool of dread settle in her stomach.

"Anything you need, Lady Sansa, we will provide," Maester Lomys told her. "And that reminds me…" The Maester pushed away from the table and stood up. "Lady Olenna had told me you paid a heavy price, carrying in the hairnet and helping assist with Joffrey's… end. She had offered passage with our ship and a safe haven from the Lannisters, but she thought you deserved more. So as a token of our gratitude…"

He found whatever he was looking for on a small table near the door and slowly made his way over to the Clegane Lady. A dark leather satchel was set beside her nearly empty plate, jingling quietly. She opened the satchel slowly, her eyes widening at the sight. Hundreds of gold dragons stared up at her, catching light from one of the open windows. "This is… I can't accept this," she stammered, looking up.

"Would more be suffice?" Willas asked, a smile forming on his face.

"No, none at all-"

"Please, my lady, accept this token. You have done much for our family, it's the least we can do."

"But I can't…"

"You will," Maester Lomys told her firmly. "Use it for your child, to rebuild your home, find safe passage for your family, whatever you need. This is yours now."

She looked to Sandor helplessly, but the ex-Knight shrugged and told the men, "She will find good use for the coin, I am sure. Thank you."

Shoulders slumping, Sansa said her thanks and closed the satchel once more. They finished eating their meal in silence, where after, Maester Lomys departed for the time being. Sansa agreed on a time for him to come and see her. Willas set up a meeting place, to go to the master-at-arms, and then asked Sansa if she would like to accompany him around the Keep for a brief tour while Sandor was busy.

After all plans were set and established, Sansa asked pardon from the table. Sandor followed her example, his face impassive, until they were out in the hall and far enough away. Then he cursed and groused out, "Never liked being the center of attention in King's Landing. Too much work and not enough drinking."

Sansa stared at the satchel in her hand and agreed, "I don't believe I enjoy it any more than you do." _It was definitely something I'll need to get used to_ , she thought with a sigh.

 **~A/N~**

 **Well, here's a late night update (at least where I'm at). Usually, I try to update on the weekend but my great grandma was celebrating her 90th birthday! So between celebrating and catching up with old family members I couldn't really get to a computer. I did one last read over for the chapter today and thought it was pretty good! Hopefully you all enjoyed. I'm working between chapters 11 and 12 right now so I should have another update this week (yes, Chapter 10 is complete! Just needs its final touches to it!). Thank you all for your continuing support.**

 **For those reading my Hound and his Little Bird story, I promise I will update it eventually, it's just this story has taken over like a rabid plot bunny!**

 **R &R**

 **XmX**


	11. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

Sansa was amazed at how quickly the days began to fill up. That first day in High Garden was so busy she barely got a moment by herself. Maester Loyms wasn't gone for long before he came and checked her over. He looked her over thoroughly, measuring the size of her bump with a thin cord, listening with a device he had created himself, checking her temperature, and then he began asking a series of questions; what she was eating, how she felt, when she had last bled, was she certain on her calculations…? The questions continued on and on. For a brief moment, she had almost panicked because the Maester looked a bit uncertain as she answered his questions. He had started using his listening device again, so she felt compelled to ask, "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, yes, everything looks most well… I had thought perhaps you were further along… But… never mind it… I would just be certain to sew plenty of clothes for the child." He started to list a number of things that would need to be done, including a strict diet, things for her to do during the day and a list of books from the High Garden library that she could read.

As they were finishing up, Sansa felt compelled to ask, "I know, well more I remember Mother had told me Maester Luwin could usually tell if she carried a boy or a girl. Is that… Can you tell?"

"Most of those are wives tales. Normally, the Maesters can guess what a woman is carrying, but can never be certain. I wouldn't worry too much of it."

"Still, what do you think?" She was so curious to find out what she and Sandor might have. And looking over at Sandor, who had stood beside her protectively the entire time, told her he seemed interested as well.

"…Perhaps, you should start thinking well on boy names. I've heard it can be the hardest to think of at times." With a pat on her hand and bidding them both fair well, he parted with the words, "I shall come check on you again in a week's time, just to be on the safe side. I want to make sure everything is well."

Finally alone, Sansa tipped her head up and smiled at Sandor, whispering, "A boy. A beautiful, little boy." And he kissed her fiercely, engulfing her in his embrace, melting her with his mouth and the soft, sweet words he murmured against her skin.

Eventually, they walked together through the Keep, with Kyme's help, to find the corridor Willas told Sandor to meet him at. He was introduced to Ser Vortimer Crane, the master-at-arms, as well as Igon Vyrwel, the captain of the guard, and, after those formalities, the men swept Sandor away. Sansa was left in the company of Willas and Kyme. With an offered arm, Willas offered to show her around the inside of the Keep with Kyme at their heels. The rest of the day into the evening passed so quickly Sansa could barely believe it.

The next day proved to be just as eventful. By early morning, Sandor had risen again to meet with the Vortimer and a group of the youngest boys to train. He was to return afterwards, for the seamstress would be there to take measurements for their clothes. Sansa found she couldn't fall back asleep once he was gone, so she got herself out of bed, found her shift, and slipped the fabric over her head. She decided to spend her morning lost in a book, so she plucked one off of the shelf and opened it up. The book was filled with old wives tales, many of which Septa Mordane had told her while she was a child.

She wandered out onto the balcony and curled up on the cushions with the book in her lap. The early morning was washed away in an excitement of tales, only interrupted when Kyme finally knocked on the door and asked timidly, "When would you like to break your fast, milady?"

"Any time, Kyme," she told the girl with a smile. Food came soon enough, served by Kyme and two other girls, looking to be a few years older. They introduced themselves as Ambrosa, a plump girl with bright blond locks braided low, and Meliana, a willowy girl with the signature dark Tyrell hair tied loosely at the nape of her neck with a leather thong. They didn't stick around for long, but Kyme didn't seem to mind keeping Sansa company. The little girl ended up sitting beside her on the balcony, nibbling on bits of cheese and bread, as Sansa told her all of the stories she was reading.

The seamstress, Calliene, came about midday. She was a middle-aged woman, so thin she was like a twig and limp dark hair she left hanging loose. Sandor had yet to return, so Sansa was the main focus. Calliene took measurements and estimations of Sansa's bump, clucking and fussing and saying very little to her unless it was questions of fabrics or styles. "Loose and neutral colors, for the North," was what Sansa said. She didn't mind being tight on her bust, but her stomach needed to be loose and flowing.

"We'll see what I can do," was what the seamstress sniffed, lifting her arm and taking another measurement with a thin strip of fabric.

Sandor finally arrived as Sansa was finishing up. Calliene took one look over him, huffed, and pointed to the platform she'd brought with. "Stand there and strip." Then she shooed Sansa off and turned to focus on her husband. She sat to the side and watched the ex-Knight being prodded and propped, nearly bare. The scowl on his face expressed his amusement to the situation, even as this tiny seamstress ordered around the massive ex-Knight. Sansa couldn't help, but giggle at the situation.

The third day was much the same, where Sandor disappeared so early in the morning the sun hadn't even risen yet, and left Sansa awake and a bit frustrated. This time, she stayed in the bedding under her warm coverlet until Kyme finally came and got her moving. She broke her fast in Willas' company and the two set off to explore the Keep together with Kyme trailing behind. The day was spent looking through the gardens, exploring the maze, and snacking on fresh peaches as they walked. Willas showed her where the Godswood were and where the three weirwoods stood. "I thought you might like to see the weirwood here," Willas said when he noticed her expression. "The Red Keep doesn't keep the weirwood as their heart tree, so I'd hoped you would feel more at home." She had thanked him immensely, staring up at the trees in wonderment. The urge to stay and pray with the old gods was strong, but she thought it would be best to be alone. So she told Willas she would return on another day and they continued on their tour of the grounds.

During the fourth day, Sansa was shown the dog kennels first, beautiful stone buildings with lots of ventilation. Willas had many breeds, from hunting hounds to common household dogs and even a litter of pups that almost reminded Sansa of the direwolf she once held dear. She wanted to hold each one of them, play with them, train them, but she held herself back from the pups.

Willas must have seen the longing on her face, for he told her, "Come back any time you would like, Lady Sansa. There won't be anyone to stop you."

After that, she was shown every kennel, stable, armory, and even the other Sept. He even told her how to get to the Mander for a boat ride. Everything here was so luscious and beautiful and looked so expensive. It was no wonder the Lannisters had wanted to rope the Tyrell Family onto their side.

If she had thought her morning was wonderful, the evening proved to be quite a disappointment. Willas invited Sansa and Sandor both to a private evening meal. That roused Sansa's suspicion a bit, but she told herself to give Willas the benefit of the doubt. She managed to think this, all the way until they arrived at Willas' personal chambers. When she saw that Vortimer and Igon were both there as well, she knew immediately what was going on. She didn't even sit when she accused, "You're sending off a scouting party, aren't you?"

"We've gathered enough men to start," Willas conceded. "Please, sit and eat and I will explain the rest."

Sansa stood firm, continuing, "I assume that I am not allowed to accompany the men." She wanted to, so badly. If there was any chance to find Robb, she knew she would be able to.

Sandor didn't give Willas a chance to answer, as he said lowly, "Not a fat chance. You'll stay here safe and sound and keep low. I'll go with them, Little Bird."

"Lord Willas informed us enough, Clegane," Igon interrupted. "There are a few details we will need to go over, so if you'll both sit down…" Sandor took her arm, walking her to the table as if he knew she'd protest. She went compliantly, but she barely touched her plate as it was served to her. Igon, Vortimer, and Sandor began discussing tactics while Sansa sat there and listened carefully. They talked about the best approaches, how to not seem like they were invading Riverland territory, and the best ways to avoid the Lannisters. Sandor was suggested to wear a helm, so the chances of him being recognized were slim and, therefore, destroying any chances of realizing his connection with the Tyrells. The party would leave at first light and, once they arrived at the Riverland forests, the party would search for three days and then return home. If the party rode as planned, they could be there in three days, if they rode hard enough. The next party, led by Igon, would be sent out midday on the third day Vortimer was gone.

When Vortimer suggested going to the mapping chambers for further planning, Willas stood up and asked Sansa, "My lady, would you mind accompanying me to the library this evening? I thought perhaps I could show you the text I had told you about with those tides."

The ploy to get her away from the strategies was so obvious it was almost insulting, but Sansa knew Sandor would tell her of the plans when he returned to their chambers. So, she stood up and said, "Of course, my lord. I could use a walk anyway."

The walk to the library turned out not to be about the library at all, but actually about Winterfell. She was led towards the library and, once seated on a bench, Willas began to tell her everything. He expressed his sympathy of her losses of Maester Luwin, Bran, Rickon and Catelyn Stark and then told her everything that had happened since her father's execution; about all of Robb's battles he had won, who he had defeated, and where he conquered. She learned more of Jeyne Westerling*, the girl Robb decided to break his vow for and marry instead. Willas hesitated over the story of Theon, but at her prodding, he told her about him. Then, there was the worst news of it all; who had helped the Freys betray her family. When he spoke of the Boltons, how Cersei Lannister declared them as Wardens of the North, Sansa's face went blank. She didn't say a word for some time after Willas had finished.

Eventually, he said quietly, "Lady Sansa-"

"I'm going to kill them," she murmured, her hands curling into fists. Her eyes burned with unshed tears as she stared at her lap. "Every Household, every family member, any that had a hand in spilling the Stark blood, they will all perish."

"Revenge won't bring back the dead," he protested, trying to put a hand on her shoulder, but she shook off his touch and stood up.

"I'm not looking to bring back the dead. I'm looking to protect my pack," she said, her back to the Lord of High Garden. "I'm going to show Westeros the Stark family is of the direwolves. We don't roll over and submit to our enemies. We fight back, protect what is ours and claim back our lands… And that is exactly what we will do."

The silence following her statement was deafening. Sansa felt this sudden urge to cry and wrap her arms around her knees. Everything she'd heard was overwhelming, the library just felt too open. The beautiful the mahogany book shelves were too beautiful and the smell of the parchment and ink was sickening. She managed out, "I need to go," without her voice shaking, but then she could feel the lump in her throat and knew that was all she'd be able to say.

Willas didn't try to stop her leaving and said loud enough for her to hear, "I'm sorry you had to hear all of this." His words didn't stop her, barely fazed her as she stalked out of the library towards her tower once more. She knew the way to the tower well enough that she didn't require an escort. The library had been a straight walk away from Willas' private chambers, so if Sansa backtracked and then came the way Kyme escorted them, she should find the tower easily.

The Clegane Lady managed to stay together while she walked quickly to her chambers. Past the tapestry of the Tyrell Family, around the corner and down the hall, then another turn down her hall, and finally she was to the stairwell of her tower. She fairly ran up the steps in her haste to get away from Willas' words, of his retellings, and what she knew would be a very bleak future. Then her chamber door was in sight and she shoved it open with unnecessary force.

Her chest heaving and her hands shaking, Sansa closed the chamber doors and stared at the room. The beautiful, luscious room she would never be able to tell her Mother about. The views she would never be able to share with Bran and Rickon. Her father, long dead, Arya, missing and likely dead as well, and Robb, who could have very well died during the night of what was now proclaimed as the Red Wedding. Yet, here she stood, safe and sound, surrounded by beautiful things and draped in stunning gowns.

She had caused all of this. If only she hadn't gone to Cersei the night Father had told they were leaving King's Landing**. Had she been less naïve, Arya and she would have been on the next boat home, to be welcomed in her Mother's arms and safe from the Lannister's clutches.

Instead, she was the cause of her father's death, the reason for Arya's disappearance. Her actions were what made Robb go to war, why he had to be promised to a Frey lady, and how he had ended up breaking that promise. In the end, because of her actions, her mother got killed because of her and Robb was injured, possibly dead.

It was all her.

Sansa sunk to her knees, curled into herself with her arms tight around her aching chest, and began to wail. She cried to the gods, to the old and the New and she cursed them. Then, she blamed it all on herself because it all stemmed off of what she had wanted. She'd begged her mother to let her go to King's Landing, to be betrothed to Joffrey, she'd gone to Cersei. Every ounce of bad luck she caused since meeting Joffrey Baratheon was because of her. She hated herself for it.

For the longest time she couldn't move. Before, she had cried when her father had passed and when Bran and Rickon had died. Now she grieved for the loss of her mother and for the loss of her entire family. Eventually, she managed to pull herself off of the ground and made her way over to her bed. Sansa shoved off the soft beautiful coverlet, threw the ridiculously soft pillows on the ground next to the coverlet, and finally curled up on her side on bare bedding.

She stayed there for a long time, not moving and quiet as a mouse. Her hand occasionally stroked the side of her little bump, but whenever she did, a huge lump formed in her throat and she felt the urge to cry some more. She didn't deserve this place, shouldn't be given a child that she's likely to ruin too, and never should have taken Sandor. He was too good for her, for the naïve traitorous girl who had ended up killing her whole family…

When Sandor found her hours later, she had dozed off, her face still a bit red from crying and curled up in a tight ball. She didn't stir when he climbed in beside her and he didn't say a word to her when he pulled her closer. For the longest time, they lay there together in complete silence. Sansa watched the sun set out her window; sniffling and letting Sandor hold her close. Eventually, he asked her quietly, "Who will I have to kill?"

She almost whimpered at his words. She managed out, "The Frey Family, Theon Greyjoy and his men, and the Bolton Family; Ramsy, Roose, all of them. They all need to be butchered. And then… there's me."

He stilled at her words and asked slowly, "Why the hell would you think that?"

"I'm the cause of all of this. I am the reason you were stuck in King's Landing and why my family died and-"

"That Cunt ass Lannister boy was the cause," he snapped, angry at her words.

"But I started everything," she whispered, her arms tight around herself. Sansa tried to explain her faults, to make him understand how she caused all of this mess, but he interrupted her.

"Nothing of this is your damn fault. Your family were the cunts foolish enough to go to war with the Kingdom, that they were too busy worrying about being honorable and got themselves killed. You did not plunge the knife nor did you mean them any harm by your actions."

"But Sandor-"

"But nothing!" he cut in, his voice sharp. He tightened his hold on her. "You'll shut your fucking mouth, grieve for the family you lost, and you won't blame yourself none. This is their fight, their war, and you were not the driving point of this battle."

Perhaps she should have been a bit put off by his language to her or the fact he was so rude, but Sansa found she embraced his words. She curled her arms around his and closed her eyes and told him, "I don't want you to leave."

He rasped quietly, "Did you want me to stay?"

"No, no, go. Vortimer and Igon are expecting you and…" She hesitated, then admitted, "I would feel better with having you there to assure Robb everything is okay."

"He could be long gone, Little Bird."

"…I know. But I need to believe in something." She touched the scars on his arms, her thoughts drifting to a lonely castle and her husband off to an unsafe territory. _Please, let him be safe,_ she thought to the gods, the old and the new, in hopes that they might finally hear her now.

 **~A/N~**

*Please note while a lot of this story follows the TV show, in ASOIF, Robb married Jeyne Westerling instead. I was not a fan of Talisa, so I changed the character.

**Watching the show, I did not see when Sansa could have ever gone to the Queen to tell her about Ned's plans to smuggle them out, so if this is inconsistent with the show, I apologize.

 **This is a very late chapter to be updated. I played with a few ideas, hopefully this turned out okay! Thank you so much for your continued support! I love all your feedback and suggestions. I couldn't ask for better readers! Hopefully everyone is content with what has happened so far.**

 **R &R**

 **XmX**


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven**

This has to be the best way to wake to wake up, Sansa decided, her head thrown back in pleasure and her thighs clenched tightly around Sandor's hips as she rocked against him. Each push, timed with his thrusts, drove him deeper inside of her and brought her closer to her finish. She could hardly stifle the moans that threatened to spill from her mouth, especially not while he nipped at her throat like this -

After a particularly hard thrust, Sandor growled against the hollow of her throat, his fingers tightening onto her hips to drive harder into her, and then he latched onto a pert nipple. She cried out, digging her fingers into his hair, and clenching tighter onto his manhood. Her legs shook with the effort to drive forward, so desperate to finish, but wanting to hold off, until Sandor could come too. He had to be close… His thrusts were rapidly picking up, taking her closer and closer…

"Sandor!" she squeaked suddenly, her blue eyes opening wide when he reached down and brushed a knuckle against her button. "I'm going to-" His touch was her downfall because she was there, shattering apart, waves of pleasure crashing over her so intensely she could hardly believe it and her inner walls fluttering around his manhood so tightly it almost ached. He stifled her moans with his mouth, drawing out her completion, and driving hard three more times into her tight depths until he finished. She would have collapsed if it wasn't for Sandor's arms securely around her waist.

Once her ability to think returned, Sansa pressed a soft kiss to Sandor's lips and tucked her head down against his chest.

The wonderful haze she had been in drizzled away slowly, leaving in its absence a feeling of emptiness and disappointment. The ex-knight seemed to feel it too, but he didn't say a word. It wasn't necessary because they both knew what was coming next. The sun hadn't quite risen yet, but in the far horizon the first rays of light were peeking out. In the room, everything was warm and she felt sated and safe, but it wasn't easy to forget what was coming; so very soon Sandor would be leaving her.

Sansa finally admitted in the silence, "I wish I wasn't so selfish." Sandor tensed beneath her.

"Little Bird," he warned, ready to argue with her, but she barely heard him.

"I want you to stay." Her finger traced one of his larger scars on his chest through the dusting of curling hair. "But I need you to go."

"And I told you-"

"What if something happens?" she interrupted, unable to look at his expression. "What if the Tyrells fall under attack and you are injured or worse? If you never came home, I don't think I could stand it. I would never be able to look at our child's face and tell him that I was the reason you died."

"I'll come back. Even if I have to leave those fuckers to die by themselves and come steal you away before the cunt Willas would have a chance to do anything, I will be back."

She lifted her head, pressed her lips to his throat, and murmured quietly, "Do whatever you can to be safe." She felt a small stir in her little bump and, with a gentle smile, she lay her hand near the area she had felt the movement. The movements were getting stronger and some days Sansa was certain the baby was kicking. "Maester Lomys said any day now you should be able to feel the baby move. That could happen any time."

"Perhaps on my return there'll be a chance," he said, tightening his arm around her. She scooted up so that she could kiss his mouth. Sandor responded hungrily, shifting her enough that she was flush against him. More than anything, Sansa wished she could get lost in his touch again, to be swallowed by her feelings of affection and love, and not think of what was coming far too soon. But a glance at the window and the impending light told her there was no such luck.

Slowly, she pulled away from him and said quietly, "It's probably time to get up."

He grumbled response, pulled her in for one last burning kiss, and reluctantly shifted her off of his lap. Sansa sat on the soft bedding, wrapping herself in the coverlet, and watched Sandor as he pulled on his tunic and breeches. Next came the ringmail and boiled leather, ones she didn't recognize, and was clearly loose on him. Willas must have found a temporary one until Calliene had finished his.

Looking at him now, Sansa's breath caught in her throat. This was the first time since they were married that he had put on any sort of armor on, no matter how little it was. He was starting to look more like the knight she remembered in King's Landing. She watched him gather up his sword and asked quietly, "Will that be enough to keep you safe?"

"It'll do good enough, likely we won't wage any battles," he rasped, not looking at her.

"I'm just… This will be the first time you'll be going into dangerous territory since our wedding," she said softly, staring anywhere, but at him.

"Look at me girl." Reluctantly, she shifted her gaze to his face. Sandor continued firmly, "Nothing'll go wrong. You don't worry your pretty little head about none of this. Enjoy your time around the Keep, play with Kyme or walk with the Tyrell. And think of what you want to do next. Once your brother is found, this won't be the end. There will be much more to worry upon later. I am nothing to compared to the rest. I've survived far worse than a few Riverland men and likely we won't even meet one now."

Sansa nodded and started out of the warm fabrics. "I'll at least see you off," she said, ready to find her gown from the night before.

"No, stay here and rest," he snapped, hooking a war hammer through a loop. "You'll only make this worse for yourself."

Sansa huffed, reluctantly plopping back down and folded her arms in front of her. She ignored the fact she was still bare. "You're being unreasonable."

He came up to her slowly, his eyes trailing on her skin as he walked closer. When Sandor was in front of her, Sansa got to her knees and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Don't do anything stupid, Little Bird," he rasped softly, pressing his lips to her head.

"Will you miss me?" she asked, her voice small, and feeling just a bit pathetic by her words. Since when has she needed reassurance that he cared?

"… Every moment," he replied, uncertain and sounding a bit surprised. Sansa looked up at him, her eyes stinging with unshed tears.

"Be safe," she whispered and pressed her lips to his.

"Aye, I will be." Then he was gone.

She was alone.

Wrapping herself in the coverlet once more, Sansa settled into the soft pillows, burying herself into the side Sandor usually slept on. She closed her eyes, breathing in the lingering smell of him, husky and with a faint whiff of wine. It was hard to stop thinking of her husband, likely just making it down the tower steps. How would the ride to the Riverlands go? What would the group of men encounter in the Riverlands? Was there going to be any battles? Who would be lost?

Pulling one of the many pillows to her chest tightly, Sansa squeezed her eyes shut and wished that she had told Sandor to stay instead.

 **ooOooOoo**

Trying to sleep was nearly impossible without Sandor beside her. By the time the sun had risen over the horizon, Sansa had slipped on her shift and sat on the balcony, her Tully blue eyes scanning the distance. She hoped to catch a glimpse of the traveling party, but she knew it was unlikely. While deep in her thoughts, Kyme came in first, followed by Ambrosa and Meliana. She didn't give them a moment to announce their presence. "I'll need to get dressed immediately," Sansa told the girls. "I must go to the godswood this morning and pray."

"Would you like to break your fast first, milady?" Ambrosa asked. "Lord Willas has offered-"

"Tell him I'll have my midday meal with him. For now, I would like to go to the godswood."

Meliana said softly, "Maester Lomys has given us strict orders to make sure milady is eating well."

Sansa breathed in deeply, closing her eyes. Her head had begun to ache already. "Bring something then. Quickly. Both of you. Kyme can help me into the green silks alone."

Ambrosa and Meliana were quick to curtsey and hurry out of the room. Kyme was already at her wardrobe, sorting through the few silks she had. Willas had been kind enough to offer her a few of Margaery's silks until Calliene brought what she had created. Margaery's silks were looser than the ones Sansa had worn in King's Landing so nothing was too tight.

Sansa was quiet while Kyme helped her dress. Eventually, the little handmaiden asked quietly, "When will Clegane be returning?"

"Hopefully, a little over a week," Sansa answered softly.

"He will be okay, milady. He is strong."

The Clegane lady couldn't help, but smile. "Yes, yes he is… Thank you for helping me, Kyme."

"Of course, milady. You and Clegane both are very kind. I couldn't ask for someone better to serve."

Ambrosa and Meliana arrived at that time, arms laden with platters of food. Sansa wrinkled her nose; the smell of cooked vegetables was horrible this morning. Perhaps Maester Lomys could be convinced to leave them raw instead… "Thank you," she told the girls, staying still long enough for Kyme to finish lacing her up.

Once Kyme stepped away, Sansa walked over to the small table and sat down. She stared at the food in front of her, eyes widening. There was enough food here for three people to eat! Noticing her expression, Meliana said, "I spoke with the head Cook. He is following Maester Lomys direct instructions for what you shall eat."

Sansa sighed, reluctantly nodding and pulling the first platter of food over to her. Ambrosa started to pour her a drink, telling her, "I requested peach juice specifically milady." She thanked the handmaiden, grateful that Ambrosa remembered her favorite drink, and poked at the food on the plate. This one was laid with meats; bacon and eggs and even a few slabs of pork. Each apparently was good for a healthy child during the first five moons she was carrying. On another plate, sat a pile of many cooked vegetables, cooked likely in the grease left over from the bacon. The last platter was covered in fruits, apples and grapes and especially peaches. The only plus to all of this was the fact a small bowl of gravy had been sent up with the rest of it.

She hoped the platter of meat in front of her would be easiest.

The handmaidens all tried to keep Sansa in good company. They spoke frequently, to keep Sansa distracted as she forced herself to eat. Kyme asked her many question, of King's Landing and the ride on Secondwind and anything else, besides Winterfell. Ambrosa spoke highly of the Mandor, telling her all of the sights to behold. Meliana told her of High Garden's traditions and the marketplace Sansa was unaware of. "Oh, yes, milady the marketplace opens again in a little over a week and a half. Everyone in the Reach is welcome, to come and share their creations with others! There's nothing beautifuler. And I hear many of the Tyrells will be coming to the Keep!"

Sansa nodded, forcing another bite of greens into her mouth. Once she'd chewed and swallowed the food, she asked, "Which ones will be coming?"

Ambrosa piped up, "I heard Leona is coming back for a few weeks, Olena Blackbar will be visiting through the evening, Victaria is calling upon Lord Willas for unknown reasons-" She dropped her voice to a whisper, "although, I hearin' it's to call Alysanne back from King's Landing."

Meliana interrupted, "And, of course, Lucas, Lorent, and Lyonel should be back by then with Lord Clegane!"

Sansa was so startled to hear Sandor's name come up that she inhaled sharply and started to cough on her food. "Milady!" Kyme jumped to her feet so quickly none of the other girls could react and reached out to help her. The Clegane lady quickly waved her off, managing out in strained voice, "I'm okay." She coughed three more times and then drained what was left of the peach juice.

Were people around High Garden really calling Sandor 'lord' or was it just these girls?

Once she found her voice again, Sansa said, "I think this will be enough for this morning," and pushed away her platter. Ambrosa looked ready to argue the matter, but she must have decided against it because she stood up and started to clear away the platters.

"Would you like me to escort you, milady?" Meliana offered.

"No, I think I'll go on my own. Thank you," Sansa replied, standing up. "If someone will fetch me when Lord Willas is ready to have his midday meal, I would greatly appreciate it."

"Yes, milady," all three chorused back. Kyme looked hesitant to let her go, but none of the handmaidens tried to stop the redhead from leaving her chambers.

Sansa was grateful to be left alone. While she didn't mind her handmaidens in the least, it didn't feel right to have the girls there. They weren't very quiet and seemed a bit fidgety at times. When Shae had come with her to the godswood in King's Landing, she had been respectful of Sansa's time. Then again, they hadn't had a true weirwood for her to go to either…

The halls of the Keep were still eerily quiet when she stepped off the tower steps. There had been very few people Sansa had seen since coming to High Garden, aside from the occasional knight patrolling the halls. A few sounds trickled in from outside; the birds chirping from the trees, barking and howling coming from the kennels, and water splashing from a large fountain nearby. A light breeze blew in through the windows.

The walk outside to the godswood wasn't far. She could feel the chill of the air easier outside. Dew blanketed the ground, dampening her slippers and the end of her gown as she walked across the lush green grass. She paid it no mind, her entire focus on the trees and what would be past those woods. The weirwood almost seemed to call to her, asking her to sit beneath its bone white branches and deep red leaves. There was a straight path, unobstructed, for her to walk upon.

Sansa hesitated at the edge of the clearing. Her eyes found the largest weirwood first, towering high up in the canopy. The godswood was so beautiful, wild and untamed and almost magical. She understood now why her father always went to the godswood when he needed to think. Her mind seemed to clear when she took her first step into the clearing.

Slowly, she made her way over to the heart tree. The carved face on the tree was weeping red and seemed to stare back at her with knowing eyes. The wind blew, leaves whispering in the breeze, almost as if someone was speaking to her, beckoning her forward and welcoming her home. At the base of the tree, Sansa crouched down and continued to stare up at the weirwood's face, unable to take her gaze off it. If she tried hard enough, she could almost lie to herself that she was home in Winterfell. Here, she felt like a Stark again.

Perhaps she had always been more of a Stark than a Tully.

As a child, she had thought she had more of the Tully blood. She had the Tully hair, the blue eyes, and her mother's beauty. So, Sansa had thought it was wrong to pray to the old gods. The Seven had their own Sept and they seemed so enchanting, just like her favorite stories. The old gods had been boring and going out to the godswood was messy. She hated it. So, she never really tried to connect with her Stark roots before and brought the same thoughts with her to King's Landing. Without the weirwood there, she felt it was wrong to even begin thinking about praying to the olds gods.

And look where that got her. The Seven never gave her a sign, nor had they answered her prayers. Instead of protecting her father, they let him be beheaded, right on the Sept of Baelor. When she asked for protection, they let her be beaten and tortured and left her all alone. Maybe Sandor had been that answer to her prayers, but he didn't believe in any gods, so that was unlikely.

Sometimes, she wondered if Sandor was right. Maybe there were no gods, at least none that cared for them. The Seven certainly didn't listen for her.

So, now would be the time to try something different. She had the Stark blood in her, the blood of the First men. Her father's gods always seemed to listen when he called for them.

"I am a Stark of Winterfell," she whispered. The wind answered her words, whispering between the leaves once again.

She had told Willas as such. Now it was time to act like it.

The redheaded girl bowed her head, twining her fingers together, and began to pray.

Eddard Stark had never told her what was needed to be done when praying to the old gods. He had taken each of his children, taught them both of the old gods and the Seven and let them make their choices. Some days, when Sansa had been forced to come out to the godswood, her father had just sat there in the silence, sometimes sharpening Ice, other times giving thanks for a beautiful day. So, Sansa wasn't sure what would be acceptable.

Eventually, Sansa whispered to the old gods. She told them of everything that had happened, from the first moment she had seen Joffrey Baratheon and had begged her mother to let her go to King's Landing. She told the gods of every deceit and deception, what had happened to her father, of her family's slaughter, Sandor's kindness, and those who had wronged them. She apologized for abandoning their belief, for letting her childish mind lead her astray. Finally, she said softly, "I wish there was some way to know Robb is all right. Or Arya. I feel so foolish for my previous actions. But I know I cannot ask or expect anything from you."

Afterwards, she was quiet, but never stood. She sat there on her knees, gazing back up at the weirwood and finding solace in the heart tree's presence. How often had her father done the same thing? Had he prayed for their safety and protection? Did he hope they would all have a good life?

Time passed without thought in the godswood. The sun rose higher in the sky, shining through the leaves and chasing the chill away. Yet Sansa stayed at the base of the weirwood. She listened to the wind, to the whispers that danced through the leaves, and took comfort in the forest. Her knees never ached, her back did not twinge, she did not grow tired and, somehow, she knew that this was it. Something would happen.

It was just a question of whether it would be good or bad.

 **~A/N~**

 **I'm sorry for the long wait, my grandparents were staying at my house for the last three weeks. I haven't had much time to get on the computer, but I'm a few chapters ahead now, so there should be several updates coming in the next week or so. I've written fifteen chapters for this story so far, and I think there will be three more at least before this story is complete. So it will officially be larger than The Traitor's Wedding. Thank you all for such wonderful support!**

 **Until next time (likely around Wednesday).**

 **R &R**

 **XmX**


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve**

Sansa felt the presence of her long before the handmaiden cleared her throat. Pulling her gaze away from the weirwood tree was nearly impossible, so she said, without looking at her, "What is it, Ambrosa?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you milady, but Calliene is here. She requests your presence."

"What does Celliene need of me?"

"She brought the silks and velvets she made. Calliene thought it best to try them first to make sure you are comfortable." Reluctantly, Sansa dragged her eyes away from the weirwood and slowly got to her feet. Ambrosa looked nervous, as if she was afraid to interrupt her.

She gave her a gentle smile and said, "I appreciate you coming for me, Ambrosa. Please, take me to her."

"Of course, milady." Ambrosa waited until Sansa had walked past her and then began to follow behind.

"Did you get to see what the silks looked like?" the redhead asked, trying to make conversation. She hadn't quite clicked with her other handmaidens like she had with Kyme, but she was determined to make Ambrosa and Meliana both feel just as welcomed.

Ambrosa looked immediately relaxed after Sansa's question and seemed eager to speak; While she hadn't seen the gowns, she certainly didn't mind to go into great details about what her favorite gowns were. She talked about ones Margaery had worn around the Keep and many of the others she had seen at the Marketplace. The girl went on and on, chattering all the way through the Keep up to Sansa's chambers.

Calliene was standing impatiently near her raised platform when Ambrosa opened the bedchamber door. Kyme and Meliana were standing nearby, to help assist the seamstress. Calliene studied Sansa with narrowed eyes, sniffed disdainfully, and told her, "Stand there."

Sighing softly, the redhead did as she was bid and stood still on the platform. Kyme came up to help her out of her gown. Meliana and Ambrosa were ordered around by Calliene, laying out the new gowns of silks and velvets. There were more than Sansa could have imagined getting. There were beautiful colors, velvets in greys and blues and looking warm. Then there were the thin silk gowns, brighter fabrics of greens and pinks and lighter blues.

Calliene had her try on all the silks first. The gowns were all tighter around her bust, but, to her genuine pleasure, the rest flowed loosely around her middle. The freedom from restricting clothing felt so glorious! The gowns all seemed to accent her rounding middle beautifully. Each new gown she tried on seemed more amazing than the last. Beading was carefully stitched, across her bust and down the sides of the gowns. Each one seemed to sparkle.

"These are all beautiful, Calliene," Sansa told her, after being draped in light golden silks with ruby beading.

"Lord Willas said for the best. It's what I give you," she replied, but the redhead caught the small smirk on the older woman's face as she turned to direct Meliana for another gown.

"These are the best I have ever seen," Sansa said, truly meaning it. At least in regards to the gowns in King's Landing. What she had seen there were less than impressive compared to Calliene's gowns. She couldn't give the same opinion to the Northern gowns, the practical ones she remembered.

Next, came the velvets and fur-lined gowns and even a heavy fur-lined cloak. "From your request and Lord Willas' orders to make you feel at home," Calliene announced, as she was helped into her first velvet gown. The gown was much thicker, heavier and very warm, and with long sleeves. The grey fabric was still soft to the touch, but much more practical in the Northern climate. Each one was easier to slip on and lace by herself. Sansa wanted to bury her face into the sleeves and giggle. She loved feeling this comfortable.

There weren't quite as many gowns like this. The Southern silks had to be nearly a dozen, but the more Northern, thicker gowns were maybe eight or nine. Calliene had crafted together two different grey velvets, with very minimum beading, which created the direwolf house sigil. Another couple gowns were a light blue velvet, lined with fur, with the long sleeves again. There was no beading in this one, but it was easy to lace and roomy around her baby bump. The seamstress explained, "There are ties near the waist to tighten or loosen the gown, it should be good for many months." The last of the thick gowns were grey and white, lined with light fur inside and poking out the end of her long sleeves.

"You've captured the North very well in these," Sansa told the seamstress truthfully. Her eyes started to burn, a telltale sign that she was getting ready to cry and quickly rubbed away the feeling with her hands.

How she missed her home…

Lastly, before she left, Calliene waved Ambrosa over. Her arms were laden with loose fabrics and threads; so many Sansa couldn't tell just how much was there. "Lord Willas asked for these heself. Said perhaps you would be asking for them at some point or another. Fabrics mostly from the North. For the youngin one." She nodded towards Sansa's rounded middle.

"How much will this be?" she asked immediately.

"From the Lord's charge," she said. "None of yours to worry."

Sansa sighed, remembering to talk with Willas about his generosity during their midday meal, and reluctantly thanked the seamstress. At least, now she should be able to sew together some clothes for her child and ones that would be more suited to her home.

Kyme was busy folding each set of loose fabrics. Ambrosa and Meliana set to organizing all of her gowns in the wardrobe and putting away Sandor's new clothes as well. He had less tunics and breeches than she got of gowns, but Sansa doubted he would mind. There was also another heavy cloak for him as well.

The Clegane Lady wandered over and spread her hands across the soft fabrics that were resting on the table. They were all very neutral colors, perfect for the North. Imagining a plump, dark haired little boy wrapped in grey fabrics… She rubbed her hand across her rounding belly, smiling fondly.

Kyme cleared her throat, interrupting Sansa's thought. The redhead turned to her with a pleasant, open expression. Shyly, the handmaiden asked, "Would milady like to be dressed in one of her new silks?" Sansa had yet to take off the last velvet gown she had worn, the beautiful grey and white one that made her feel so at home. And, while she would love to wear it all day, she was already starting to feel warm.

"That should be fine," she said, "Surprise me with the color."

Kyme grinned brightly and turned back to the wardrobe. She spoke with Ambrosa and Meliana and, after some deliberation between the three, they decided upon a light blue silk gown with intricate stitching. There were darker blue stones stitched into the side and around her neckline. Meliana helped slide off the velvet silks, Kyme helped her step into the new gown, and Ambrosa helped lace her up.

After observing the gown in her looking glass, much bigger than her one in King's Landing, she turned to the girls and asked, "Would someone be able to escort me over to the library?" Even though she had been there once, it still made Sansa feel better to have someone with her.

Kyme looked ready to say something, when Ambrosa beat her to it, "I don't mind at all, milady." She had a hesitant look on her face. Kyme's expression dropped immediately and she looked to the ground instead. Meliana was still focused on putting the gowns away, her face impassive

"If you'd like, each of you are welcome. I'm not limiting who can come, but if you don't want to, I won't make you." Kyme's grin returned in full force. Meliana finally smiled. Ambrosa was glowing.

As they were starting to the library, Meliana inquired, "What are you looking for at the library?"

Sansa grinned. "To see just what all I might be able to sew for my little Prince."

 **oOoOoOo**

It was past midday when Willas Tyrell entered the library. Sansa, nor her handmaidens, heard his entrance because they were so engrossed searching through the massive library's collection. So much so that time passed without their notice. The hand maidens were clustered around Sansa, with a handful of books on hand that had suggestions for sewing clothes for newborns and ways to make sure they could be used as the newborn child grew.

The High Garden Lord cleared his throat. Immediately, Sansa's handmaidens were to their feet, but Willas chuckled and said, "No need to think this is a problem, girls. I'm glad Lady Sansa has been able to find such entertainment with you."

"We must have lost track of time, milord," Meliana mumbled, her head bowed still.

"Is it past midday?" Sansa inquired and smiled softly at him. "I apologize for the tardiness; I kept the girls distracted all morning." Kyme was on her feet already. She helped the Clegane lady from her seat. Sansa felt a bit larger today than normal.

"It is no problem of course, my lady." He offered her his arm. "If you wouldn't mind an escort…"

"Of course not." As she looped her arm with Willas', she said to her handmaidens, "I'll see you back at my chambers after our meal. Don't worry about waiting for me."

"Would you like any of these books brought up?" Meliana asked, scooping up part of the pile in her arms.

"Perhaps the last four we had looked at. They seemed much more thorough."

"Of course," Kyme chimed in, taking the pile of books in her arms. Meliana and Ambrosa set off to put away the discarded books.

Willas led her out of the library and asked her, "Were Calliene's gowns acceptable?"

"They were wonderful. I appreciate the extra fabrics you had sent with as well. There is something we will need to talk about though."

"And what might that be?" The smile on his face told Sansa he knew exactly what she was going to say.

She smiled back just as sweetly and said calmly, "I do not appreciate being given everything as if I'm unable to pay. The Tyrell family has made it very easy for me to afford any of the luxuries I could possibly need. I do not want to be treated as incapable."

"I understand what you are say, I truly do, but-"

"I don't want any arguments," she interrupted. "The fabrics are the last altruistic act you will give me." Sansa stared at him, her smile never falling.

After a moment, Willas consented, "I can do that. I just want you to understand, I am trying to be hospitable, not make you feel incapable."

Sansa's smile softened. "I appreciate it. I'll offer my apologizes. I guess it's been far too long since being around a person being genuinely kind."

"Never fear about being honest here, my lady. Now, how does roasted pork and potatoes sound for a midday meal?"

"So long as there is some peaches with that," she said. Willas threw back his head and laughed.

"Whatever you would like," he smiled and led her off towards the dining chamber.

The midday meal was wonderful. Between their conversations and the delicious smoked morsels of pork and cooked potatoes, Sansa managed to enjoy herself. She didn't give herself time to think about Sandor or wonder how he was doing. The nighttime would be hard enough without worrying herself sick during the day.

Afterwards, Willas had several meetings planned. So Sansa had the rest of the afternoon to herself. She went back to her chambers and found all three of her handmaidens cleaning up her room. Kyme was busying wiping down all the surfaces, Ambrosa was taking her turn cleaning out the chamber pot, and Meliana was straightening up the balcony. On the middle table, the books from the library and the loose fabrics were in a neat pile, almost begging to be stitched together.

Each of the girls stopped and looked at the Clegane Lady the moment she opened the chamber door. With a grin, she asked, "Which one of you wants to help me stitch together these fabrics?"

"As soon as I'm done, milady," Ambrosa and Meliana piped up, grinning at each other.

"Me too!" Kyme said, turning back to her work with new vigor.

Sansa laughed.

This was the first time in ages that Sansa had felt so _normal_. She didn't feel threatened or depressed and felt as if she had some meaning in life. She had Sandor and was carrying her first child. Life almost seemed okay. So long as she didn't think too much outside of the walls of High Garden's Keep. If she pretended Sandor was just down in the yard and the rest of her family was well and safe, Sansa might be able to lie to herself about being content…

So long as she didn't let her mind wander. Focus on the present and breathe.

Focus.

Breathe.

 **~A/N~**

 **I wasn't sure how to end the chapter, so it's a little awkward. But the rest of the story should hopefully be flowing better soon. Thank you all for continuing to read and leave your feedback! It's what gets me through the day!**

 **R &R**

 **XmX**


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Chapter Thirteen**

She was walking through darkness, feeling a heaviness press upon her. Fighting through the wave of oppressiveness, Sansa pressed forward towards a lone figure in the distance. A constant _drip, drip, drip_ filled her ears. When she looked down at her bare feet, she realized she was submerged into water just below her ankles. Each step made a ripple through the clear surface, even though everything was black beneath her feet. Her reflection didn't show on the surface, as if the world was shrouded in darkness, despite the fact she could see her own feet, legs and arms.

She started to bend down, to touch the surface, when she heard someone crying. Immediately straightening up, she squinted off in the distance. A figure could barely be made out, standing out there alone. Why were they here, in this place? Running was nearly impossible, not with the heaviness still upon her, but she hurried along as best as she could. She didn't let her eyes leave the figure, fearful that the stranger would disappear as soon as she looked away.

 _Drip, drip, drip._

The trickle of water grew louder the closer she got to the figure. If her eyes hadn't been drawn to the water, she almost would have missed the discoloration. She paused, staring into the water swirling around her feet. The clarity was tinged red.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Then, she could hear the rasping. "… _Left us… Traitor… Selfish…"_

Hands shaking, her breaths coming shorter, she barely made herself move forward. Only five feet away, but the face was obstructed in the darkness now. The water grew darker, until it looked like blood. She couldn't raise her head, not when she knew whatever she would look at next would be…

" _Sansa!"_

Sansa lifted her eyes immediately at the voice, recognizing the sound painfully. Her chest ached. Standing in front of her wasn't one, but two figures, small in stature. Upwards, somehow, they were hanging there, with nooses wrapped tightly around their throats. Dark, shaggy auburn hair of both young boys. They hung there, drifting across the water's surface with the tips of their toes. Blood dribbled down their tunics and breeches, _drip, drip, drip,_ down onto the water below.

" _All your fault,"_ little Rickon whispered.

" _Selfish, needy,"_ Bran rasped, staring at her with unseeing eyes.

A sudden scream from behind made Sansa jump. She spun around, to come face to face with Arya. She stared at Sansa, her head cocked to the side at an unnatural angle. Her eyes were empty, her face covered in blood and further down over her whole body, and her hair was hacked to shreds, so short she could have been mistaken for a boy. _"All your fault!"_ Arya said coldly. " _Stupid, naïve little brat. You're the reason we died."_

Then, Robb began to shuffle forward from the blackness besides Arya, bloodied all over. Arrows protruded out of his body, blood trickled down his face, and pooled beneath him in the water. He raised one arm at her, pointing, and cried, _"All your fault. All your fault. Mother, father died. I'm dying. DYING."_

And then, all at once, they were grabbing at her. Yanking at her auburn locks, pulling at her arms, taking her in every direction. She tried to fight them off, struggled against their holds, but she seemed to grow weak. The heaviness that had settled upon her seemed to increase, pressing her down to the ground. Sansa began to sink in the water from the weight. The dark engulfed her feet, then her legs, and crept further and further up her body. Coldness crept into her body, freezing her from the outside in.

Sansa tried to scream, attempted to escape, but her siblings were too strong. As she opened her mouth, to plead for forgiveness, the water was up above her head and she choked on the freezing cold water. She couldn't breathe. The cold washed into her being and she began to sink further and further. Blurry images of her siblings stared from above her, cackling silently.

And then the blackness took her over…

She was dying…

Dying.

 _Dying…_

Her Tully blue eyes flew open. Sansa sucked in a deep breathe, fighting off the panicked, heavy feeling in her chest. She didn't dare move, only stared up above her. She could still feel the echoing pressure of her siblings pressing on her, of the water around her. But slowly, the feeling was disappearing. Tears prickled at the corner of her eyes, but Sansa didn't dare cry. She was tired of being so whiny. Besides, this was the fourth dream that had woken her so badly since Sandor's departure and it certainly hadn't been the worst…

Slowly, Sansa turned on her bed, to pull aside the curtain covering her window. The sun was just beginning to rise above the horizon, so it was still a bit early in the morning. Kyme, Ambrosa, and Meliana weren't due for some time.

Today marked the fifth day Sandor was gone, the second since Vortimer had gone after the party with another four men.

There hadn't been much word from anyone since they had left. Willas assured Sansa no news was better than a raven. 'Dark wings, dark words', he had told her. Perhaps the Tyrell lord was correct. Still, she wished for some word from her husband. Thoughts that the party had fallen under attack or worse, that they had died, would linger in her mind until she saw the Hound for herself. Surely, nothing too terrible could have happened.

Perhaps she should pray again. Maybe the old gods would help with the dreams and settle her thoughts about Sandor. If she was lucky, Sandor's party would return early, in another day or so, and Sansa could relax.

Throwing aside the coverlet, Sansa moved to get into a respectable outfit. If she was gone only for a short while in the godswood, her handmaidens wouldn't likely miss her. Her new gowns, courtesy of Calliene, were much easier to put on herself. Whether it was buttons, like her previous Northern gowns, or the lacing, preferred in King's Landing, the seamstress had made it easier for her to get dressed herself. Likely, this was for when Sandor and she finally left High Garden to return home.

Once there was news of Robb, the Clegane family would likely hurry out of High Garden. More than anything, Sansa hoped Sandor would find Robb and she would be sent for to go to the Riverlands. That reminded her, she needed to speak to Willas about food supplies. That was another discussion to add to her list. While she hated to ask the Tyrell family for any more help after all they had done, this was a necessity. If Theon truly had burned Winterfell as rumors stated, it was likely their Winter stores had been depleted and if there might have been anything left over, it was likely taken from scavengers looking to last through the winter.

She padded over to the desk to add food to the growing list. There were several topics she had thought of since Sandor's departure. Willas and she had touched on a few topics, but there were plenty more to go over still. Some, like regarding the Clegane family's stay, could wait until Sandor's return, along with the news of Robb. Others, like the concern of a new Maester, would be addressed soon. Sansa was waiting for the day when a new Maester from the Citadel would be summoned by Willas' letter and Winterfell would have a new healer again.

With her new item listed and a short note written in case her handmaidens came up early, Sansa finished dressing herself in a royal light blue silks with roses stitched in dark blue glass beads around the hem. This one was a front clasp, wrapping tightly around her chest, just above and underneath her bust so her skirts could fall loosely around her swollen middle. She had fresh slippers to put on as well, and then wrapped herself in a shawl to chase away any morning chill that might be present.

As she left her chamber, Sansa let her mind drift to her dreams. Ever since the first day she had gone to the godswood and prayed, she had had these strange dreams. The first one had been of Bran and Rickon, away from Winterfell with the direwolves, Hodor and that strange woman. She had tried to follow after them, but the closer the Clegane lady got to her brothers, the quicker they seemed to run away. Neither Stark boys seemed to be able to hear her cry after them. Eventually, they disappeared in a swirl of mist and snow and she couldn't find them again.

Another dream was with a pack of wolves. She was one of the pack members, a lone wolf near the back. The others in the Pack didn't seem to notice she was there. Sansa tried to catch their attention, but as soon as she touched one of them, she went right through. Then, the wolves began getting taken out, one after the other. The Alpha male of the pack (reminding her so much of their father) was taken out by a lion cub assisted by a hunter wielding a massive sword. Then there were two of the younger pups, drowned. The Alpha female went next, her throat slit by an ally. The oldest pup was injured, so badly he couldn't move. The last two seemed to disappear and then it was just her. She was cornered, surrounded by enemies. She woke up just as a Lion was reaching for her.

The other dreams were similar, where figures that represented her family were murdered and injured. Her dream from the night before, Sansa watched Sandor be slaughtered right in front of her. The dreams made her feel sick and also question whether this was a sign from the old gods, letting her know that the Stark Family blamed her for their deaths. It also made her wonder… Would she be the cause of Sandor's death as well?

It was definitely time for her to pray again.

Sansa rubbed a soothing hand over her swollen belly, feeling her son shift about. He seemed to be able to sense her anxiety or if she got too thoughtful. Oftentimes, he would distract her from her thoughts, either moving about or occasionally kicking. His kicks were definitely getting stronger as well. Sandor would probably be able to feel the kicks by the time he returned…

Outside, the air was mild. There was no dew blanketing the ground this morning, so Sansa didn't have to worry about her slippers dampening. Likely, her handmaidens wouldn't even be able to tell she had slipped out at all. She could say her prayers, hurry back to her chambers, and slip on her shift once more.

Thoughts about her handmaidens disappeared the moment Sansa stepped foot into the godswood. The weirwoods stared at her silently. A wind blew softly through the branches and leaves, whispering in its wake. Anxiety about the dreams, about her concerns seemed to melt off and left the Clegane lady feeling calmer. She went to the same weirwood that she did every day, carefully stepping over roots that had broken through the surface and trying not to disturb too much of the ground. The area seemed too precious to disrupt.

She still wasn't even sure what she wanted to say or ask of the gods. Just, whenever Sansa felt overwhelmed or scared, she found comfort and connection in the godswood. She could imagine that her Mother and Father were looking over her. Maybe even Bran and Rickon. Hopefully, no one had suffered. Maybe Robb didn't even feel pain right now. And Arya…

Flashes of what she looked like in this morning's dream, her neck snapped so badly, made Sansa squeeze her eyes shut. She settled out on the ground directly beneath the weirwood's branches and took a deep breathe. "What are these dreams for?" she asked the gods. "Are they a reminder of what I had done wrong and how everyone had suffered? Or are they warnings, not to mess up again like I had before?" Of course, she got no answer.

There wasn't time to linger too long, so Sansa took a deep breath and tried to clear her thoughts. Maybe today would be the day to sit out and sew underneath the heart tree. She had played with the idea for a little while now, but she had always hesitated. The Clegane Lady wanted to be connected to her Stark roots, to embrace her heritage she had ignored for so long.

She let the comfortable feeling of homeliness surround her, picturing her father sitting beneath the tree across from her and sharpening Ice. She could almost hear Mother calling for Arya if she let herself fall into the fantasy enough. Robb and Jon could be playing with their swords and Bran could be watching, fairly begging to be let in on the fun. Rickon could be wandering about anywhere, with his direwolf at his heels, being overly curious and mischievous.

Sansa waited for some time, to see if perhaps the old gods would give her a sign, but they were silent. She wished they would say something, anything to help her understand the dreams. Eventually, she knew it was time to give up and head back to her chambers. Sometimes, Kyme came in early simply to enjoy Sansa's company, since the redhead had a tendency to be up before the sun more often than not.

Sighing, she got back to her feet and turned to leave, one hand resting lightly against her swollen belly. She had hoped for better assurances, as if the gods could somehow tell her everything would be okay. "Naïve," she muttered to herself quietly, reflecting on Arya's words from the dream. Her brows furrowed together and she ran her fingers through her loose hair in frustration.

Naïve. Useless.

Those were the best words to describe just how helpful the Clegane lady had been lately. Willas treated her as if she were a fragile doll, ready to break at any moment. Maester Lyoms acted as if she would pop out the baby at any moment, even though she was only a few weeks past the halfway point. Sandor treated her like some precious item to hide away forever. Ambrosa and Meliana would hardly let her walk on her own.

She felt smothered and over-crowded. The Stark in her, the part she had ignored for so long, itched to grab her bags and run off. Just like Arya. When had Sansa ever felt like doing something her sister normally would have? Her mouth twisted into a grin. Oh, the irony of the world now. Arya wouldn't even be able to recognize her any longer, if they ever saw each other again. At least, the redhead thought so. She felt like a totally different person…

But, back to the most important part...

Sandor would be returning to the Keep soon enough. They could discuss everything on his return and see what he might have found. Would there even be any news? He hadn't sent any letters ahead, so the search party likely hadn't found Robb yet. Could he have died…? No, no surely Sandor would have at least given her warning.

So deep in thought, Sansa hardly noticed as she wandered back into the Keep towards her tower. It wasn't until Kyme had shouted that the redhead even looked up. The handmaiden looked at her, head cocked to the side in confusion. "Milady, what are you doing out by yourself?"

"Are Ambrosa and Meliana here yet?" she asked, ignoring her question and walking towards the young girl.

Kyme shook her head. "No, milady. I came early, to see if there was anything I could do."

The redhead smiled at her and, as she reached the girl, looped her arm with hers and continued on towards the tower. Then, she said, "Then neither of them need to know about this. It'll be just between us."

The handmaiden hesitated a moment, then nodded her head, and said, "Was there anything you would need of me at this moment?"

"I'm feeling a bit hungry this morning. Perhaps it's time to break my fast? And then a bath would not go amiss either."

Kyme bowed her head, pausing at the bottom of the tower steps. "I'll head towards the kitchens then. Would you like the same food as always?"

"That should be just fine."

Sansa headed up the tower steps by herself, wishing she could fall back on the thoughts she'd been thinking of before Kyme interrupted. Now wouldn't be the time. If Kyme was getting ready to start the day, the other girls would be coming soon and Sansa couldn't think properly when it was herself…

 **oOoOoOo**

She woke up in the woods, on her back, staring up at the sky. The sky is darkening, the sun setting. How had she gotten outside? Last Sansa could remember, she was resting up on the balcony in her chambers. Sitting up quickly, the redhead got to her feet and looked around. It only took moments to realize these weren't the woods surrounding the High Garden Keep. These were more indigenous towards the North, specifically towards the Riverlands…

Was she dreaming?

Quickly, the Clegane lady looked over herself. She noticed at once that her belly wasn't swollen. She couldn't feel the presence of her baby, either shifting about, kicking or even just being still. "It has to be a dream," she murmured to herself.

Why was she noticing this now? She hadn't been able to in any of the other dreams.

Still, if she's near the Riverlands the old gods might be trying to tell her something. Maybe this was the sign she had been looking for. Where to begin though?

As if answering her, a creature stepped out from the trees right in front of her. A massive smoke-grey direwolf stood in the clearing. He had his head cocked to the side and, although his eyes slid over her, he seemed to be able to sense she was there. "Grey Wind," she said, her voice cracking. This was the sign, this was it. She reached out to touch him…

…And was sucked in.

It's as if something had taken hold of her and shoved her into the body of the direwolf. For a moment, both Grey Wind and she had to adjust to her presence. She remembered stepping into the skin of the direwolf before, but she had always had control. However, when she tried to move forward now, Sansa couldn't. Grey Wind seemed to have all of the control. He shoved her back as if she was a nuisance and continued to move forward.

Her senses adjusted. Sounds were much louder, her vision sharper, and her sense of smell seemed impossibly strong. Grey Wind moved forward quietly, as if stalking prey. There wasn't a sense of bloodlust however. Sansa was surrounded by fear and hesitation. Who was it that Grey Wind was trying to sneak around?

The answer to her question was on the other side of a line of bushes. The direwolf crouched behind the greenery quietly, gazing between the branches. Not even fifteen feet off was a group of people. _Strangers_ seemed to be the thought on Grey Wind's mind. A threat. But he hadn't decided if this was a threat he needed to take care of now.

Two men seemed to be shouting at each other now. Sansa couldn't make out the faces, could hardly make out a word that was being said. "… Likely not even fucking here! Should just move on!"

"…Last seen… Can't fucking just leave…"

"…Robb Stark… need to find…"

Then Grey Wind heard a shout. The direwolf shifted his gaze, towards the end of the clearing where a group of men began piling out of the trees. Sansa could barely make out cursing from the men she first spotted, and then a shout as the largest of the group ordered them onto their horses. She wanted to stay, to see what was going to happen.

But Grey Wind was slinking away silently. Whatever he had seen was enough. He turned towards the trees he had come through first, silently gliding across the ground in a path he was obviously familiar with. Sansa could do nothing, but follow. She tried to look back once, but Grey Wind fought off her attempts like her presence was nothing.

Her focus was changed when Grey Wind stepped into a cavern. He slipped down into the cool cavern, his eyes adjusting to the darkness quickly. At the far end, Sansa could just make out a figure lying on the hard ground and another crouched down beside the still being. "What happened, Grey Wind?" the figure asked, straightening up. Asked in a voice that was too familiar, too…

 _Too…_

Sansa startled awake, thanks to Kyme. _Let me go back to sleep, back to the cavern,_ she thought desperately. She craved to see who it was that was talking. The voice was already leaving her memories. She hadn't seen anyone's face. There was a feeling in her chest, in her heart, that she knew whoever those people had been and that they were important.

"Did you sleep here, milady?" Kyme asked, concerned, dragging Sansa from her thoughts and any possibility of falling back asleep.

"No, no, I woke up a little while ago and must have dozed back off," she said, sitting up slowly. "What time is it?"

"It's nearing time to break your fast. Lord Willas a'wondering if you'd like to join him?"

 _No, no, I don't want to_ , she thought. Still, she nodded. It was likely expected. "Help me get dressed and we can go." Behind Kyme, Sansa spotted Meliana and Ambrosa getting a gown ready for her already.

"Of course, milady," her handmaiden said, smiling brightly. "Come." And, so she did, while inside she wished to be with Sandor…

 **oOoOoOo**

Six days passed. Then seven. Sansa paced all day on the seventh day, anxiously glancing out of her massive window and eventually wandering down to stand outside of the Keep's entrance. She had hoped that Sandor's group would arrive that morning, but as the sun slowly rose the middle of the sky and started back down, she figured they would be there by the evening. Eventually, Willas came to her, offered his arm, and told her, "We will go for a boat ride on the Mander. The sights are beautiful."

She started to protest, "What if they return while-"

But Willas held up a hand, cutting her off, and told her, "Clegane and the others are more than patient. I'm sure your husband would appreciate you being distracted rather than you working yourself into a fit. Maester Loyms said to relax, not overwork."

The redhead sighed in frustration, but reluctantly consented, "All right, for a little while. How far is the ride?"

"Oh, not far at all, my lady." He started to lead her off towards the stables.

The distraction was far longer than she anticipated. The carriage ride to the dock was much longer than Sansa was led to believe. Then, loading onto the small vessel to carry her, Willas, and Kyme (the girl had been ecstatic when Willas invited her along as well) and actually pushing off from shore, took even longer. Now, not only was she nervous about Sandor, but she was hot and grumpy. The sun seemed to beat down on small boat, while Willas rowed them along the Mander.

Although, Sansa had to admit the sights were breath-taking. They were a bit of a distraction, while she asked questions about mountaintops and whose fields those were she could see in the hills. There were beautiful green and golden groves of trees and even areas to dock and eat a packed meal. People could be spotted on the shore, women and children and their husbands. The Mander was a whole level of peace Sansa couldn't quite believe existed any longer.

Eventually, Willas's distraction came to an end. He brought them back to the Keep, where there was still no report of Sandor's return. Sansa was brought to sup with Willas and the Maester and Igon. The redhead's appetite seemed to have disappeared altogether, even as she listened to the other men's chatter. She pushed around the vegetables, even turned her nose up to the peaches. What was worse, she realized she was pouting! Pouting, of all things.

It was so unladylike and childish, but she couldn't help herself. She was worried sick that something had happened. Between that and her inability to sleep, Sansa didn't feel like herself anymore.

Once Willas let her go for the evening to sleep, she wandered up the tower steps listlessly and let her handmaidens pull her along to the wash tub to soak. She listened to their chatter about the marketplace coming up in just a few short days, as the girls fussed with her long locks. Perhaps, it would be better to cut her hair. That might help while they traveled, so she didn't have to worry about it getting messy and tangled. She wouldn't have the handmaidens help tease out each knot gently or style it for her… She loved her auburn hair though. It reminded her of her mother's hair and how often Catelyn Stark loved to dismiss the help and brush out Sansa's hair herself.

Unless she could take care of her hair herself… Yes, that would be it. She needed to learn how to be more self-sufficient. There wouldn't be extra help on the road nor a stop at every Inn they saw to bathe.

When Ambrosa tried to help dry her off, Sansa declined and did it herself. She wouldn't let Meliana help her into her shift for the night and waved off Kyme's offer with the brush. She did so herself, asking for assistance in learning a few of the other styles. Sansa could plait her hair into a simple braid herself, but all three handmaidens had several other very easy, but pretty styles as well.

It was later at night by the time the handmaidens left for the evening. Sansa, her hair plaited plainly, curled up around Sandor's pillow he used most often in the darkness, stroking her swollen belly gently, her eyes closed. She could almost picture the Hound curled around her, holding her close. The thoughts were almost enough to lure her back to sleep…

Until her door came crashing open and Kyme's voice dragged her back. "Milady! Come quick. Lord Willas says men are returning. And likely, Lord Clegane is among them!"

 **~A/N~**

 **I know, I know, another chapter without Sandor or any real SanSan :( it's a shame really. But it was a necessary chapter. Trust me. And they'll be together shortly enough I promise.**

 **Thank you all so much for the reviews and support! Writing this chapter wasn't necessarily challenging, it's finding the time between a new job position and fixing up the new house I got. Who knew simply putting in hardwood floors yourself could be so hard? Especially when you rip up the carpeting and your own father falls through the subfloor...**

 **But I think I've finally found a balance. I get roughly an hour or so at work to be able to write and then I can take a time in the evening once in a while.**

 **The story outline is roughly five or six more chapters... But I might end up shoving a few chapters to the next story arch. Yes, there will be another story to this arch. Yep, a trilogy! Yay! Not to mention the other two SanSan ideas I've been plotting... mwahaha**

 **Please continue to R &R. I promise the next chapter won't take so long!**

 **XmX**


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Chapter Fourteen**

Sansa hurried down the steps as quickly as she could, ignoring Kyme's warnings to be careful. Why had Sandor returned so late? He was supposed to return days ago! Had someone been injured? Or worse, had they found Robb dead? Images of her dream flashed across her eyes. Could those men she had seen been part of Sandor's party?

As soon as she was to the main entrance of the Keep, the Clegane Lady could see Willas and Igon there waiting. Both men turned at the sound of Sansa's impatient footsteps as she hurried down beside them. Willas smiled at her first in greeting. "Ah, my Lady. I'm glad Kyme could get you so quickly."

"Is it true? Has Sandor and the others returned already?" she asked, almost gasping and pressing one hand against her side where a stitch had started to form.

"I believe I have seen a traveling party return with our Banner," Igon confirmed. "We can't be certain it is Clegane and the lads, but we figured you would rather know…"

"No, no, I appreciate it," she responded, smiling back politely. It was too dark outside to make out the group of the men. "How far out are they supposed to be?"

"Likely we should see them in just a few moments," he said. If she squinted enough into the darkness, Sansa could almost make out the group of bodies.

Anxiously, she wrung her hands together, unable to take her eyes off the men quickly approaching the Keep. If only they could move a bit quicker… Was Sandor truly with them? Or were her hopes being brought up for nothing? She had missed him terribly while he was gone…

If only it was ladylike to run out towards the horses. Willas wasn't particular about her being ladylike (she briefly wondered just what Margaery's childhood had been like), but Sansa didn't want to push it. Besides, what good would it do to make herself look a fool in front of strangers? There was no indication that Sandor was there… And besides, even if…

By now, the shapes of the men were more distinguishable. At the center of the party, a much larger host sat in the middle. He seemed to nudge his horse faster than the others, ignoring who it was he was leaving behind. Closer and closer, he seemed to get… Her breath caught in her throat. It had to be. The man was massively tall in stature. There was no one else as large as Sandor around High Garden. Sansa couldn't help herself; her feet moved of their own accord, down the steps and across the front yard, just at the edge of the torch light.

As soon as the dark warhorse, Stranger, was at the edge of the light, the rider was swinging down. Sansa could make out his features now. The burns, his scars twisting one side of his face, his hair brushed over more to cover the disfigured half, his large frame and the way the corner of his mouth twitched as a sort of grin formed on her husband's face. He looked over her, as if to see if she was okay.

Then his arms were around her waist, lifting her up into his arms. She clung to him, laughing breathlessly, and kissed him. "I'm so glad you're home," she murmured against his mouth.

"Were you treated okay, Little Bird?" he rasped, slowly letting her down to the ground, but his hands lingered on her.

She nodded, smiling shyly. "My time alone was perfectly kind. Calliene even brought your new tunics and breeches and my gowns as well."

"Smart cunts then. They know to keep you happy," he said, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of her auburn hair. She almost leaned into his touch.

Had it really been only a little over eight days since he had left? It felt like a lifetime. Taking her eyes off him was difficult. She was worried he would disappear if she did.

The other riders, Lucas, Lorent, and Lyonel, were close behind Sandor. From behind Sansa, she could hear the footsteps she assumed were Willas' and Igon's. As the parties began to meet in the middle, Sansa reluctantly stepped back from Sandor to give the others room. As Willas said openly, "Welcome back, Clegane. I'll assume the trip went well?", Sandor grunted in return, his eyes never leaving her.

"We got much to talk about," he said after a moment, finally letting his eyes slide over towards the Tyrell Lord.

Igon had slid past all three of them to greet the Tyrell boys. Sansa offered them all polite smiles, noticing each one looked extremely haggard. She turned her attention back to Willas and Sandor, as the Tyrell Lord was saying, "I'm sure you all need much rest. Let us convene on the morrow to discuss what all was found."

The Hound nodded, turning his gaze back towards Sansa. "In the morning," he rasped. Willas said a few other words, turning his attention more towards the Tyrells. To her, Sandor said, "Get to your room, Little Bird. I'll get Stranger put away, then be there as well."

"I'll have a bath drawn for you," she said, as if that was what he would possibly want. He didn't say much, turning towards Stranger. The warhorse snorted anxiously, eying the group with distaste. Sansa turned to Willas and Igon and the Tyrell boys. To the boys, she told them, "Thank you for helping my husband out. The Cleganes and Stark families will remember your generosity." Then, to Willas and Igon, she added, "And thank you for waking me. I shall see you in the morning to break our fast together?"

Willas nodded. "That should be perfect. I'll send Kyme when we are all ready to discuss all that had happened."

Sansa nodded, smiling again. She turned her attention to Kyme, who hovered in the background. "Wake Meliana and Ambrosa and have them draw a bath for Sandor."

She bowed her head, murmuring, "Yes, milady," and started back to the Keep.

The redhead made her retreat next, watching as the Hound started around the back towards the stables. "In the morning, my lord," she said, curtseying prettily to Willas. He bowed in return. She knew that was her okay to go.

She couldn't get back to her chambers quick enough. Ambrosa was the only girl there at the moment, with a bucket full of steaming water. She smiled tiredly at the redhead and told her, "The others should be right behind me with more water."

"I appreciate you getting up so early for Sandor and I," Sansa said, feeling a pinch of guilt. It was so late in the night, surely…

"Oh, none of that, milady. I'm sure milord would appreciate a fresh bath and time to relax."

The door to the bedchamber opened. Sansa spun around, hoping to see Sandor, but it was only Meliana and Kyme, both with buckets of water as well. "This should be the last of it," Kyme announced, as she walked to the wash tub. It was amazing how quickly these girls could fill the wash tub.

"Thank you, all of you," she said gratefully. Her eyes scanned the bedchamber quickly, wondering if Sandor would notice how clean and put together the room was. Everything was in place; books were organized, the loose fabrics neatly piled on a small table Meliana had brought up the other evening and, next to the loose fabrics, stitched clothes as well. The desk was spotless, the wardrobe carefully organized. There was nothing to complain about, she was certain.

The handmaidens ducked out quickly, not lingering to speak with her as they normally did. Likely, they could tell how anxious the Clegane lady was to have the room to herself with Sandor. Sansa barely acknowledged their disappearance. She paced around the room, adjusting a book here, straightening up a piece of fabric there. Should she keep on the gown she'd thrown on hastily? Or should she get back into her shift? She smoothed her hand over her swollen belly absently, feeling a wave of comfort and contentedness flow through her, and settled down onto a seat on the balcony.

So lost in thought, Sansa almost missed when the chamber door opened again. She stood up quickly and froze as soon as she saw the Hound. It was almost unbelievable he was home. The ex-knight closed the door slowly with his one free hand and set down his satchel on the ground. She didn't know what to do; should she go to him? She wanted to, but…

For many long moments, they stared at each other, until the silence almost became unbearable. Finally, Sansa cleared her throat and managed out, "There's a bath with warm water. And, if you'd like I can have some food brought up-"

"Fucking hells, Little Bird, come here," he rasped, unloosing the hammer and sword from his belt quickly. At once, the redhead went to him. Sandor took her in his arms, bending down to kiss her urgently. She responded just as eagerly, melting into his embrace. The relief she felt, the overflowing, needy feeling to touch him and tell him just how much she had missed it washed over her. She didn't want tell him these words, uncertain if he would appreciate the words or laugh at her for her childishness. So she used this kiss to convey everything that she was feeling; kissing him urgently, recklessly tugging his tunic loose so she could touch his bare skin, feeling the ripple of muscle as he shifted the shirt off of himself, pressing closer to him. Her body lit on fire the moment his hand grazed against the curve of her breast, down her waist to press her closer still.

Eventually, the kisses were gentler, less harsh, but almost more passionate. The Cleganes eventually shifted apart, though the touching lingered. "Let's get in the bath, Little Bird," Sandor told her lowly, the want clearly in his eyes. Were her eyes as dark with desire as his?

"Yes," she breathed, leaning up to kiss his jawline and down his neck. Unexpectedly, he let out a low groan.

Somehow, seemingly impossible, they managed over to the washtub without looking. First his tunic came off, her gown slipped down to the ground, and she fumbled to unlace his breeches. Then, he was touching her, running his roughened hands across her bare flesh to draw her close again. It wasn't until Sandor bumped into the washtub and nearly tipped it over that their attention was drawn from each other. Cursing, the ex-Knight quickly straightened the washtub. "Let's get in," Sansa said, almost giggling, somehow holding onto his hand. When had that happened? Still, the small action made her heart swell with happiness.

The Hound was in the wash tub before Sansa could blink and drawing her in right after. The wash tub wasn't much larger than the one in King's Landing, but that just gave her all the more reason to settle into Sandor's lap. She did so eagerly, leaning in to kiss him again and pressing down against his hard manhood. "Sandor," she murmured softly, moaning when he shifted underneath her. And, knowing what was to come, this was exactly what they both needed…

#

#

She waited long after their coupling to light the taper by the nightstand, until the sound of light snoring filled the silence and Sandor had turned over onto his belly and buried his face into the cushion. Sansa wished desperately she could fall into a deep slumber curled up to her husband, but she found it impossible to close her eyes. The fear that the Hound wouldn't return, that something terrible had happened plagued her mind for days and now, to see physical evidence he was alive and well, made it impossible to close her eyes. Slowly, she reached her hand out to brush aside the dark hair from his face, exposing the burns to the candle light. Her fingers lingered on the scars, the rough texture under her fingertips.

Was it wrong to pity him? To feel bad for what he had to endure, to go through in life? She knew he would hate to see the look on her face, to see the look in her eyes. Voicing the same thoughts had to have to same reaction. It was just… How unfair it was that he had to be in such pain, to endure the looks of disgust and rejection, and to have to be so bitter. "Life isn't fair," she whispered in the quiet, remembering the time the Hound had tried to remind her of this again and again.

She was drawn from her thoughts when she felt large, rough hand grasp her forearm. Immediately, Sansa turned her gaze back to Sandor's face, now turned so that he could see her despite the look of exhaustion on his features. His grip was gentle, but a look of defense was in his eye. Likely because Sansa had been touching his burns… "What's on your mind, Little Bird?" he rasped, sounding tired.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she murmured, setting the taper down and moving closer to her husband. He reached for her, his arms wrapping around her waist and his head settling into her lap right beside her rounded belly. "I can't imagine you had much sleep in the Riverlands." Sansa shifted just enough to settle comfortable on the cushions and then she ran her fingers through his freshly washed hair. A warm, happy feeling settled in her chest and a smile tugged at her lips. When had he ever lay on her like this?

"Little Bird," he said again. It was a light warning, enough that she knew he wouldn't drop the topic.

"I was worried you wouldn't come home before," she admitted, "And, now that you're home safe and sound, I just… it's hard to close my eyes and sleep."

Sandor didn't say anything for some time. For a moment, Sansa wondered if he had fallen asleep. Then he told her, "I won't be going anywhere if I can help it again."

"Good," she whispered, feeling surprisingly young and vulnerable in this moment. Despite the fact she was barely old enough to be considered a woman, with Sandor she felt much older than her age.

Feeling like the topic needed to be changed, she asked, "What all did you find while you were at the Riverlands?"

"…I didn't find your brother none."

"But…" she implored.

"Frey men came for us."

She stilled at that. "When did they come?"

"The evening of our fifth day when we were still at the Riverlands."

Flashes of the dream she had had when she was consciously dreaming appeared, one after the other.

"You were arguing with the other men about Robb, weren't you? Something about not wanting to move on?" she questioned, feeling sick to her stomach.

Sandor stilled under her hand, not even breathing. Slowly, he raised his head, looking up at the redhead. "You shouldn't know that," he said.

"I had a dream," she murmured, eyes wide. Would he… what would he do?

"What'd ya see?" he asked, sitting up. Sansa wished she could keep stroking his hair, that she had kept her mouth shut. Sandor was looking at her as if something was terribly wrong.

"It was probably nothing." She ducked her head, feeling his eyes on her. "I just… I was in Grey Wind, part of his mind, and… I couldn't make out anyone really well, but enemy men suddenly emerged from the trees and then Grey Wind was leaving… It was nothing! Please, let's just sleep."

Sansa didn't want to know how he was looking at her. She twisted around, blowing out the candle, and settling onto her side, her back to Sandor. She waited many long moments, until the ex-knight finally shifted beside her and wrapped his large arms around her again.

For the longest time, they lay in bed together silently. Finally, just when Sansa was beginning to drift off to sleep, she heard Sandor murmur into her hair, "Warging." And then he tightened his hold around her and pulled her as close as he could.

She pretended to be asleep, making sure to remember the word in the morning.

Sansa and Sandor Clegane entered Willas Tyrell's chambers that next morning, bright and early. The Hound was grumpier than ever, tired and very much not a morning person especially before their morning fast. Sansa was tired, unable to fall asleep no matter how hard she tried. She had hoped to have some free time in the morning, _warging_ whispering in her head over and over, but it seems those hopes were useless. Willas had wanted to talk now and understand what their next course of action would be.

Yes, the plans were direly important.

Even so… Warging? Where had she heard it before? She remembered all of Maester Luwin's teachings since she was a child and all of Old Nan's lessons. So, if she couldn't recall the word from her lessons, then it had to have been… Old Nan's stories! Of course, that would make the most sense- Noticing that Willas was saying something, Sansa quickly turned her attention back to her husband and their host. Friendly pleasantries were expressed, despite the fact Sandor was very gruff, and then everyone settled down to eat and discuss. Igon was there, as well as the Tyrell boys that had been with Sandor.

Lucas Tyrell spoke first, while Sandor began to devour his breakfast. He shared of their discoveries, the direwolf foot prints and what seemed to be human foot prints all over the forest. Lorent shared of a tale of spotting hundreds of wolves, being led by a massive direwolf as the leader, but he had not much else to offer. Lyonel told of his belief that the footprints they had found were all from the same person, small in stature and probably young as well. None of the boys, for all of their training in the wilderness, were able to find any place that the King of the North could be hiding or any hints that he was actually alive.

By then, Sandor was finally ready to share his opinion. "I left the boys on their own," he rasped to Willas, downing a glass of what Sansa hoped wasn't wine. "They're old 'nough to fend for themselves. I found a man on the third day, wandering in the woods. He was a Frey man, one that butchered the Stark family. I took him down easy and questioned the man thoroughly." Sansa couldn't imagine what 'thoroughly' meant. Sandor continued by explaining that many men had been searching the woods looking for Robb, spotting only brief moments of the direwolf in the trees and a scraggly young boy wandering as well. They didn't know if the young boy they had seen wondering was Robb or not, but based off of the description the boy seemed too young and with dark hair rather than the red Sansa knew.

Sandor then continued on, when he had been up with the Tyrell boys and they had been ambushed.

Her mind briefly turned to her dream, in the cavern where she was Grey Wind and he had greeted to figures…

"There's not much else to do, but look," the Hound said, glancing over at his redheaded wife. Sansa met his eye and smiled briefly, lost in thought.

Warging.

Dreams.

Grey Wind.

Stories.

There was a connection, she just knew it. It was just a matter of finding the right texts…

Willas sat there, thoughtful, for several long moments. Finally, he nodded and said, "Let Igon and I discuss our next course of action and we can talk more of this tonight. I have much planning to do before. I'm not sure if Sansa has had the chance to inform you, but our market is opening up tomorrow morning. It's a tradition that, unfortunately, we are unable to avoid. The marketplace itself is far enough no one should enter the Keep and you and Lady Sansa are more than welcome to go out and enjoy it."

"Piles of strangers close to your Keep? Don't seem like a good plan, my lord," he sneered mockingly, looking defensive. "If one of the Queen's spies are down here-"

"The chances of that happening are extremely slim, Clegane."

"You're a fucking fool then," he snapped back, standing up suddenly. "We speak tonight regarding our next plan of action. Little Bird and I'll stay away from that damn market of yours." And, before Sansa could get a word out, he left the room, slamming the heavy door on his way out.

She stared at the door, shocked. It was yet that her husband had lost his temper to the Lord of High Garden… She turned to apologize to Willas, but he waved her off with a smile and said, "The Hound's temper is well known around the South. Do not apologize. I did have more I wanted to say before he left, but as long as I have you here, it's no matter. I've received word from the Citadel. The new Maester for Winterfell shall be arriving at High Garden in a few short days. Following that and the rest of your list you had given me…"

"We should be able to leave soon," Sansa finished, running her hand over her belly soothingly.

"Are you sure you wouldn't want to stay here longer?" Willas inquired, watching her closely. "Maester Lomys is more than capable to help you through the childbirth and then, in a few years-"

"I want to be at my home. Nowhere else. Hopefully with Robb and maybe even Arya. But I want to be surrounded by Winterfell's walls, regardless of who else may be there."

Slowly, Willas nodded. "As you wish my lady. We will see what we can accomplish in the next several days and see if word regarding Robb's location comes. I would also like to send messengers to understand what all has happened in the North."

"I can give you 7 days," she agreed. "Then I want to go out and search for Robb myself, if there is no other word."

Willas hesitated, but eventually said, "When the time comes."

She smiled at him, standing up from the table. "If you don't mind, I was hoping to stop by the library after our meal. I look forward to the Market place tomorrow. Is it fair to assume that we will be breaking our evening meals with the other Tyrells coming tomorrow evening?"

"Yes," he agreed, standing up as well. "I will let you know whether or not Clegane and you shall join us for that evening meal."

Likely meaning Willas wasn't sure if the rest of the Tyrells would be as welcoming.

She curtseyed instead of saying her thoughts and excused herself. First, the library and then eventually she would look for Sandor. He was likely out on the training field or with Stranger. And, while Sansa desperately wished to be near him, she also knew now would be the time to allow him to calm down. Anyways, she needed to find information on Warging. She wasn't able to forget the word, nagging at the back of her mind constantly.

The library was blessedly silent as always. She trailed through the different aisles, quietly mouthing each section as she passed it. Kyme had been the one to show her where the fables were at. While in Winterfell, Old Nan had only told the stories from memory. However, here and in King's Landing, Sansa knew they kept documented records of tales and fables that were told to the children or of any interest. Why they did this here, she was unsure, but at this moment she was grateful. It was unlikely any of her handmaidens had heard much of Northern tales.

Eventually, Sansa found the section she was looking for, narrowing down the texts to the Northern tales. If Warging was going to be in any text, it would be the tales of the North. Once four different texts had been selected, she searched for a windowsill in which she could read.

Warging.

Warging…

Tales of old…

Warging.

Blood of the old men.

She would find this connection, she knew it.

 **~A/N~**

 **Yes, this story is still alive. This chapter took a while to write and I've been crazy busy with construction around the home. But this is done and the next chapter is already half-way done! Then, only one or two more chapters and this story is complete. Hopefully this is a pretty good chapter and that everyone enjoyed. Thanks so much for sticking around!**

 **R &R**

 **XmX**


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Chapter Fifteen**

Sansa Stark stayed hidden inside the library all morning, into the afternoon. Ambrosa was the first to go hunting for her, but when the handmaiden had seen the redhead sitting in a windowsill with her head buried far into the book and her brows furrowed in concentration, she thought it best to leave the Stark girl be.

Later, Ambrosa and Kyme both hovered at the edge of the library, quietly noting that the Stark girl had replaced all four books she had been reading earlier and had a pile of six more around her. From thin to thick texts, it was clear whatever she was reading that it was important. When Kyme went to say something, Ambrosa put her hand on her arm and shook her head. It was best to let the girl do her own reading. It was likely she had what she was looking for and it was just a matter of finding what it was that she needed.

Meliana was the first to interrupt Sansa, hesitantly bringing a platter of food choices for Sansa to eat. The redhead seemed surprised it was already past midday, thanked the handmaiden, and proceeded to continue reading, absently nibbling on a strawberry in hand. Meliana ducked out silently, going back to Ambrosa and Kyme to tell them what she had done.

It wasn't until late afternoon that Sandor came to her. While she had hardly heard her handmaidens when they came in, the sound of the Hound's footsteps echoed loudly on the stone floor in the quiet library. She looked up from the book resting in her lap, ignoring the piles of books around her, and asked, "How are you?"

"The Lord came and spoke to me," he said, sounding sarcastic as he carelessly moved the texts aside and sat down in the windowsill near her.

"What did he have to say?" Tucking a scrap piece of parchment between her current pages and closing the book, she didn't look up as she smoothed her gown down over her bump.

"There's no way in hell you're going after Robb in a handful of days," he told her at once.

Feeling irritated already, she lifted her head. "You can't just order me around, Sandor. I'm not some quivering boy you're up against or any of those knights at King's Landing."

The Hound bristled at once, but to her surprise, Sandor seemed to keep his anger in check as he told her through clenched teeth, "You stay here, until I either find that cunt brother of yours or I can take you safely to Winterfell."

For a long time, Sansa didn't reply to his words. She sat there, stroking her belly, a thoughtful expression on her face. Eventually, she said to her husband, "I said seven days. No more, no less. This gives time for Willas to gather the necessary supplies, go through his crops, and for the Maester to arrive while we travel North. In case, Maester Luwin was ki…" Her voice caught, feeling a rush of sadness. Through Willas's words, it was likely he was gone… Clearing her throat, she continued, "There will be a small carriage with the supplies, which I can sit in if riding a horse is the concern. I know Maester Lomys said horse riding can be hard on a woman carrying a child, so I thought it best to avoid it. But I need to be out there, where I can look for Robb. Grey Wind would recognized me, I just know it and-"

"That's fucking stupid," he interrupted. "That damned animal hasn't seen you since you were home, over a fucking year ago."

"You clearly have no clue what the direwolves do," she responded angrily, straightening up. "They mark with all of us of the Pack. They rub their scent, each one at a time, and mark us as part of the pack. They would never forget. They're smart animals and of tales and mystery. _You_ wouldn't have a clue what they could do!"

She saw the way his expression seemed to shut down, showing frustration and anger. Immediately, Sansa took a deep breath and said quietly, "I'm sorry, that was rude to say." It would do no good to argue with him now. "It's just… I have thought this through. Over and over. I know what my options are if we do not find Robb. There is every chance that we can be home in Winterfell. You can be the Lord of the North, with me by your side and-"

"Do you really think that's what'll happen, Little Bird?" he asked, his voice low. "I'm no lord or king. I'm a second son to a low-born family. Your people would never accept me as their fucking lord."

"I'm there, in my own home and land. I am the last of the Starks, if Robb is gone. Bran and Rickon are dead, Arya is younger than me and likely gone as well. Mother, Father… There is only me and you." She reached over to take his hand and, shifting as the books in front of her, moved over to sit next to him and rest her head on his shoulder. "The people of the North will need someone of power and strength. You may not have the best temper and you certainly have no manners, but you are strong and you protect what is yours. And, with me by your side…"

"Don't get lost in stupid fantasies girl," he warned quietly.

She lifted her head to look at him and told him, "Fantasies have long fled from my mind. There is very little that I can think of as fantasies anymore. I've listened to my older brothers talk and, despite my preference for all things ladylike, I did listen to my father plan strategies from time to time. The Boltons will be a small problem to handle, but I think I know what I can do next. Many, many families are loyal to the Starks and, if Willas's tales are correct, the Boltons betrayed their Northern roots. Not many people will be inclined to side with them once the rightful Heir of the North returns. I do have a plan and connections that can help us. Even if the Boltons are behind Wintefell's Walls, there are plenty of ways to get in rather than the front gate…"

"Little Bird… What are you planning?"

She doesn't respond to his question, her brows furrowed in thought. Suddenly, she straightened up further and pressed her hand against the side of her rounded middle. And then, a bright smile spread across her face and she told Sandor, "Put your hand here." He hesitated only a moment, then gently placed his hand where hers was just a moment again. She could feel their son shifting about and… _kicking._ "Can you feel it?" she whispered, watching his expression.

"Fucking hells… Is that…?"

Sansa hummed in response, nodding her head. Seeing the hesitant expression on his face made her heart ache. It was so hard for him to be open at times... "That's our son, kicking," she whispered, watching for his reaction carefully. Instead of responding, the Hound drew her in and kissed her gently. How he touched her now, so soft and sweet, nearly made the redheaded girl melt. She couldn't remember the last time he was so careful with her…

And, as she snuggled up to his chest, reluctantly giving up on her search for warging at the moment, Sandor suddenly rasped softly, "I love you, Little Bird." Those words she had wanted to hear for so long…

It was then, Sansa knew in her heart that they would be okay. She tipped her head up, pressing a gentle kiss against his scarred cheek and murmured back, "I love you as well."

#

#

The first thing Sansa noticed when she woke up was the bloody, severed head looming in front of her. The head wasn't human. No, this one was furry and with round-tipped ears, staring at her with dull, empty golden eyes. Blood dripped off the grey and white fur, slowly trickling down a pair of bloodied arms and eventually pooling down on her bared chest. She almost didn't recognize what she was looking at, but then it all clicked. Her breath caught in her throat. _Lady._ Why was she-? What was once Lady's beautiful, now grotesque, head was set down atop Sansa's chest and she saw who it was behind; Joffrey.

That was when she realized that she couldn't move.

Joffrey Baratheon, dead and cold with ice blue eyes, stared at Sansa with the largest smirk she had ever seen. Trickles of dried blood trailed from his eyes, his nose, his mouth… _"Sansa,"_ he rasped, sounding as if he was struggling to breathe. _"Pretty, little Lady Sansa."_

"Stay away from us," she whimpered, trying to shift away from him. He cackled and reached out to touch her rounded belly. Sansa couldn't move, even as her struggles became harder and more frantic. It was as if something was pressing down on her. And, when Joffrey touched her bump with freezing cold hands, it felt as if she started to burn.

So frozen in fear and shock, she didn't make a sound, until his fingers began to dig down into her skin and this searing pain ripped through her body. Then she started to scream, first this soft keening noise and eventually to a shriek she couldn't stop. Sansa found she could care less about the pain, more about the baby that was wriggling and moving about in an attempt to get away from the burning sensation.

Joffrey's wormy fingers buried further and further into her, breaking through her outside barrier to the inside. Blood poured out, pooling around Sansa's hips and seeping into the bedding beneath her. The pain was almost overbearing to the point she was seeing black spots. She couldn't move, no one came to her screams… _Sandor, Sandor,_ she tried to scream. _Where was he?_

And somehow, impossibly so, when Joffrey's disgusting hands touched her child, she could feel it. She tried so hard to move, to fight, but she was helpless. Everything in her grew cold and burned at the same time. She felt as if she was being torn to pieces. And, as he was yanking out the baby, screaming, _"We're coming for you, Sansa",_ she was _falling_

 _Falling_

 _Falling_ …

Screaming, Sansa sat up in bed frantically, her heart hammering in her chest. For a brief instant, Sansa thought her lower abdomen burned. She was in a complete panic, shoving aside the coverlet and sheets and making sure nothing was the matter. Sandor rushed from wherever he had been to the bed, nearly in as much of a panic as her, but she didn't even notice. She had to look, make sure she wasn't bleeding, that there were no marks on her at all. The sheets were clean and dry so why…?

It wasn't until Sandor finally grabbed hold of her shoulders that Sansa finally stopped. For several long moments, they stared at each other. Quietly, Sandor asked, "Little Bird?", and that was when she fell apart. She collapsed into his arms crying, pressing as close as she could, the panic fleeing so suddenly she felt empty. "Was it another dream?"

The question was so quiet, she almost didn't catch it. It took many, many moments before Sansa choked out, "Lady… And Joffrey… _Gods_ … He wanted the baby. He tried…"

"He won't try anything," Sandor growled. "He's in the damn ground, dead as can be. You're here and safe. I won't let anyone hurt you."

The protective tone in his voice, paired with the fact his arms almost crushed her against him made Sansa feel safe. Even though she wanted to tell him about the blood, what it felt like to have Lady's head on her chest and the cold fingers digging further and further inside of her, she knew that she couldn't. There wasn't a reason to tell him those horrors, just like she didn't tell him about the dreams of Robb and Arya and Bran and little Rickon.

So, she told him quietly, "It was just a dream. Just a dream…" He agreed with her, kissed her soundly, and made sure she was truly okay. Sansa didn't want to worry him, so she assured him she was fine, made promises to relax until Kyme, Meliana and Ambrosa came, then she would bathe, and finally Sandor would meet up with her at midday to see the little market square (as he had eventually agreed the night before at the evening meal, even with his worries of Cersei's spies). Despite all these reassurances, when Sandor was leaving she still felt uneasy. Dread pooled in her stomach and this heaviness settled in her chest. She was so unnerved by the dream that Sansa couldn't just sit there. She got up and paced, back and forth over and over, twisting her hands together again and again, occasionally touching her bump just to make sure her baby truly was okay. There didn't seem to be anything that could settle her nerves.

When Kyme finally arrived, with Ambrosa and Meliana not far behind her, Sansa had paced so much her feet had started to ache and she felt a bit nauseated. Kyme seemed to understand she was distraught of something, for she had the other two girls fetch water for a bath and offered to brush out Sansa's hair until they returned. The simple actions, paired with the young girl's chatter, soothed Sansa's nerves and settled her thoughts. For a while anyways.

A relaxing bath, one loose comfortable silk gown, and her hair piled loosely on top of her head, Sansa was beginning to feel better. She pressed the nightmare from her head, ignoring the way she could almost still feel the stickiness of the blood on her skin or the feel of Joffrey's disgusting hands on her and rubbed her rounded belly for reassurance that everything was okay. Then she headed to the morning fast with Willas.

Breakfast was a fast event, as the Tyrell lord was more concerned about the other Tyrells quickly approaching the palace. Leona and Victaria were likely to arrive within a few short hours, followed by Olene Blackbar in the evening. Lucas, Lorent, and Lyonel were all expected for the evening feast. Willas politely informed Sansa he wished to speak with the family before inviting her to the evening meal. The redhead was more than happy if she was not invited at all. She would rather avoid the family if possible. The less people she spoke with the better. It was already risk enough to be out at the market in the afternoon, but one that Sansa thought to be relatively slim. Townsfolks were more unlikely to recognize her compared to other Tyrells who had to be familiar enough with her family and very likely the situation Willas was in.

Once she was dismissed, Sansa found herself free for several hours until Sandor returned from training with the young Tyrell boys, Igon, and Vortimer. After a bit of consideration, she decided to return to the library to read more of wargs and skinchangers.

It had taken quite some time, but eventually Sansa had found exactly what she was looking for. Just thinking about it made her shiver. Because what Sandor had whispered that night made sense. Could she have been connecting with Grey Wind? It was true she didn't have the same connection she had had with Lady, but she could still reach out to Grey Wind. Each Stark child had been marked as part of the Pack. Could that have been enough to warg into dreams?

Maybe the direwolf was trying to connect with her too…

Still, more research was needed before she could decide anything. Most of what she had read was all tales and superstition. There were next to no actual facts known about skinchangers and wargs. It was puzzling… But the more she started to think about it, the more it made sense to Sansa. Everything she had been dreaming, her connection she had had with Lady before the sweet direwolf had been put down, it all made sense.

She wished there was someone she could go to, other than her husband, to ask about this. Thoughts of telling her husband that she might very well might be warging almost scared her. Would he think she was some sort of freak? It was extremely unusual for someone to be able to skinchange or warg, according to the texts.

That also brought the thought to mind regarding her child. Was it dangerous that she was in someone else's mind while she was carrying her child? Did it affect her son? What could side effects be?

It terrified her, more so because she had no control over when she did warg. The only time it happened was when she slept and not even every night. How did you control something like that? She couldn't control her dreams.

… And, if she was being really honest with herself, she almost didn't want to stop it. It was her last connection to her brother. If Grey Wind was still around in the riverlands, then surely Robb was still alive. Right?

There's no reason to fret, she told herself. At this point, she had little to no answers. Maybe, if she could find a way to control it, then perhaps she could decide when she did warg or at least she could limit the times it happened and keep any possible risks away from her child. Then, if everything went off as planned, she could reach out while they were on the road, perhaps she could lead the party directly to Robb.

The walk to the library was short, and was blessedly empty as always. She went directly back to the folklore section she had been pulling books from. Then, after pulling out several other books she had yet to read, Sansa went back to the windowsill she had sat at previously and continued to read some more. There wasn't too much time left before she met up with Sandor, so she didn't let herself get lost in the texts, but she looked carefully through each book, trying to find any word of skinchanging and warging.

One book, then a second one, and a third and no answers were to be found. She went back to the shelf, maybe able to find a book strictly on the Northern tales, but it seemed everything was mostly of the South. A glance over at the window told Sansa it was nearing midday, to her dismay. She could come back after the marketplace… Still, she felt disappointed. Why couldn't she find these answers sooner?

Shoulders slumped and feeling defeated, the redhead started out of the library. So lost in thought, she didn't notice someone else had been wandering the halls, until she had bumped into them. Sansa opened her mouth to apologize, drawing her eyes up, and her voice caught in her throat. Because, looking right down at her with a displeased expression was someone the Clegane Lady knew had not been in the Keep these last few weeks. An older woman, with greying Tyrell brown hair stared at her, as if waiting for her to find her voice. Her brown eyes were nothing, but cold and her mouth was set in a thin line.

Clearing her throat and quickly curtseying, Sansa squeaked, "My apologizes, my lady. I had not expected anyone in the halls." She berated herself mentally for not sounding more confident.

The woman sniffed, eying her up and down with dislike. Finally, she said, "… Lady Sansa I'm to assume?"

"Yes," Sansa said, fidgeting her hands and running her hand over her rounded middle for reassurance. "And you are…?"

"Lady Victaria Bulwer," she said, still looking displeased.

"My apologizes again, my lady, for running into you."

"As you should be," Victaria responded back.

Sansa didn't reply and continued to stare at the ground, trying not to quiver. Despite finding herself comfortable in Highgarden and around Willas Tyrell, she did not know any of these strangers. And she found herself terrified for her child as well. She waited for Victaria to say something, anything, for what felt like an hour. Lady Bulwer must have stared at her for several long moments, then sniffed again, and, without another word, walked around her and down the hall.

Lady Clegane breathed in deeply, closing her eyes momentarily. She couldn't believe that she was so nervous meeting someone else… But how long has it been since she was around strangers? Determined not to run into any other Tyrells for the time being, she hurried onto her chambers.

By the time she reached her chamber doors, Sansa felt more relaxed after the confrontation. She reassured herself that it was only 6 more days in High Garden and then she and Sandor would be on their way. Sansa opened the chamber door and walked in. Her husband was already there, staring at a piece of paper on the small center table. It was likely her list of items that she had brought up to Willas previously. Notes from the discussions and numbers that they were looking at for food, supplies and the extra men.

Somehow the ex-knight had not heard her. Clearing her throat, and catching his attention, Sansa told him, "That's everything Willas and I have spoken of to get home to Winterfell."

"Thought it through quite a bit while I was away," he rasped, sounding short. Sandor wasn't looking at her yet.

"I needed something to do to distract myself while you were gone."

When her husband finally looked at her, his brow furrowed. "Anything the matter, Little Bird?"

Reluctantly shaking her head, she said, "I just ran into one of the Tyrell guests; Victaria Bulwer. I'm unused to being around others now, so I got nervous. It's just a reaction." It would do best to at least tell him. Lying had done nothing for her last time…

"Did the cunt say anything to you?" he growled, already looking ready to go after the woman.

"No, no, nothing," she tried to reassure. "She was very polite." Sansa wandered over to Sandor, wrapped her arms around his waist, and rested her forehead on his broad chest. "Ever since we left King's Landing, I have a hard time trusting anyone, but you." _Because of Joffrey_ was left unspoken, but Sansa knew he understood.

"No one will ever hurt you again like that," he told her, wrapping his arms around her gently.

"You'll protect me," she agreed, finally looking up at him. She smiled brightly and stood on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. "Now enough worrying. I would love to have a chance to explore this marketplace. You'll keep me safe, I'll stay hidden under the hood of my cloak, and Kyme will be doing most of the shopping for me. There is nothing to worry on."

"… Fine," he muttered, sounding far from pleased. "If that's what you really want-"

"It'll be good to be in public, rather than hiding," she said, pulling away from him enough that she could look at this face. He looked hesitant, his eyes warring between concern and frustration. She knew he wanted to do everything in his power to keep her safe and she was definitely making it difficult.

Before either could say more, there was a knock on the chamber door. Sansa stepped out of the Hound's arms, smiling again and asking, "Are you ready to go?" as she stepped towards the Chamber door. Sandor grunted in return, just as Sansa opened the door for Kyme. The young girl looked dressed and eager for the market place.

"Milady, is it all right for Meliana and Ambrosa to join us as well? They've finished their duties for the day as well and-"

"Of course they can, Kyme," Sansa said, grinning brightly. She looked over her shoulder to her husband, who was just adding his sword and hammer as necessary items to bring to the market. "Sandor?"

"Go fetch the girls. I'll meet you out front Little Bird," he grouched, still looking unhappy. He had yet to put on his boots still.

"Thank you!" she chirped happily, turning back to her handmaiden and beckoning for the girl to go on.

It took no time at all to find Ambrosa and Meliana, who were busy gathering together their coin and wrapping themselves in their best gowns and redoing their hair. They asked Sansa her opinion, giggling and laughing. The Stark girl hadn't felt more at home in ages. Or maybe she was only feeling this way now because she was going home. Six days. She couldn't imagine anything better. She was married, had a husband who cherished her, a son along the way, and a plan to find her brother.

By the time Meliana and Ambrosa were ready all four girls were running late. They hurried to the front, giggling amongst each other. Sansa caught sight of Sandor at the entrance, looking impatient. However, when the girls all arrived, he said nothing of their tardiness. To her surprise, he offered his arm to Sansa, and led all the girls towards the noise of the market place. It wasn't far from the Keep entrance, enclosed in the furthest ring of the white wall of the Highgarden Keep. Just as they had exited from the middle wall, Sansa spotted groups of men and women and children, lingering at the end of many market stands. From the top of the steps, Sansa saw many crowds of people, so many people that Sansa wouldn't have been able to guess just how much.

Sansa ignored a small twinge of uncertainty and the small group continued on.

No one paid much attention as the large ex-knight, his wife, and three younger women as they all slipped into the crowds of people. It was loud and hot and there were so many smells, the place was almost overwhelming. Sansa's handmaidens turned to the right, in hopes to distract the Clegane Lady from quite so many people and towards shopping stands. The left started a line of stands cooking meats out on open fires and stands full of fruits, vegetables, breads, and desserts on the opposite side. Over the noise of the crowds, Meliana announced loud enough, "We can wrap around the whole place!"

Sandor stayed close behind her, less than amused to be following a group of young women fawning over gowns and trinkets. The redheaded girl felt bad that her husband felt the need to stay close by, but she had to admit, it was so lovely to see the beautiful jewels and handmade cloaks and gowns. Each stand offered a bit of a different item from a different town of the Reach. There were necklaces made of shells from the shore off of Three Towers, but a stand from Blackcrown offered similar necklaces of pearls instead. She found a beautiful hair pin with a bright blue stone from Brightwater Keep. Smaller, less known towns offered handmade cloaks of every color from thin to thick. There were gowns of every fabric and silk in every color townsfolk could get their hands on.

She couldn't help herself when she purchased a newborn sleepwear, deep blue like the ocean and thick to keep her child warm.

Half way through the stalls, Sansa noticed a stand had caught Sandor's eye as well, full of chain mail and many weapons to offer. It wasn't far off from where Ambrosa and Meliana were busy looking at little figures made out of painted stones and glass. Kyme looked eager to follow as well and Sandor…

The Clegane lady reached out and touched his arm. At Sandor's look, she leaned in and said, "Go take a look over there." When the Hound opened his mouth to argue, she continued, "We'll be right across from you. You'll only be twenty feet away. It is okay."

At her encouraging look and another glare over at the stand the Kyme had now gone to as well, he reluctantly conceded. "Don't go far, Little Bird," he warned.

"I won't, promise," she said, leaning up for a chaste kiss. Then, without looking back, she hurried over to her handmaidens' sides.

She loved the sight of the small glass figures, as frogs and birds and butterflies. There were even painted stone of dogs, horses, and even wolves. Small trinket boxes to hold rings and necklaces. It was so pretty to see everything! There had been nothing likes this up at Winterfell. Everything up there was practical, so they could survive the harsh weather.

Sansa shifted off the hood of her cloak so she could get a better look. It wouldn't hurt for a few minutes surely.

So enthralled by items, Sansa almost missed the first arrow that whistled by behind her. It was only the first scream that drew everyone's attention to the middle of the street. Some random man lay in the street, an arrow buried into his chest.

 _Thunk!_

Right before her eyes, a mere foot away from Sansa's face, an arrow flew, burying into the stand wall next to her.

She had exactly one moment to feel a rush of fear, when Kyme suddenly shouted, "Milady!" and shoved Sansa away. The Clegane Lady, already unbalanced, lost her footing and tumbled to the ground. She slammed hard to the ground onto her right shoulder, barely twisting herself to avoid any injury to her abdomen. She heard Sandor snarl, just as the crowds of people, so many people began to panic. The random people seemed to part around her and Kyme like the sea around a rock.

None of that mattered though.

Sansa barely noticed the deep ache in her hip or the sharp pain she felt in her wrist. She could only stare at the sight in front of her, speechless. Blood pooled on the ground in front of Kyme from her shoulder, where an arrow stuck out. She was pale and unmoving and Sansa couldn't be sure if she was breathing…

No, no this couldn't be happening… Kyme couldn't be dead. Not the sweet little nine year old…

Ambrosa began to scream.

 **~A/N~**

 **Well, another chapter is complete. This one was hell to write and I've been busy. Still no excuses. I'm sorry.**

 **2 chapters left to this story. Then the last story of the Trilogy (which has also already been started~)**

 **Thank you for sticking around. The next chapter is on its way to completion.**

 **R &R**

 **XmX**


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Chapter Sixteen**

 _We're coming for you, Sansa. We're coming for you…_

Sansa Clegane barely noticed her husband snapping at her, staring at Maester Lomys' hands as he wrapped a thick, stiff cloth around her sore wrist. He had already applied some salve to her hand, scraped deeply from rocks ("We mustn't worry of infection right now!" he had insisted). Her wrist wasn't badly injured, but it had swollen and bruised and the Maester had insisted she keep it wrapped for at least three full nights.

But none of it mattered. She could only see Kyme, lying bleeding on the ground and hear the words Joffrey had whispered to her in her dream.

 _We're coming for you, Sansa._

The Hound was furious, mad at Sansa for removing her hood and even angrier at himself for letting her out of the Keep in the first place. Sansa couldn't find it in her to rise to her defense. It was her fault after all, that now Kyme was… Now that Kyme-

"Fucking hells are you even listening?" Sandor snarled, grabbing her shoulders to catch her attention.

Sansa stared at him for a moment, blinking slowly. Then she whispered, "It was the Lannisters, wasn't it?"

Willas' men had come within moments that the crowd had gone into a panic. Some had bows in their hands as well, while three men Sansa now knew to be Lucas, Lorent, and Lyonel had come to cover her with shields. Sandor was there moments later, looking panicked for the first time ever. As soon he could assure himself that she and their son were well, he had hurried her to her feet, barely looking over at Sansa's handmaidens. "Kyme. You have to get Kyme!" Sansa had shouted, when he tried to turn her away to the Keep.

He'd snarled, looking furious and reluctantly snapped at Lyonel, "Get her to the Keep!" Then he went for her handmaidens.

Now that they were all at the Keep, Ambrosa and Meliana were hysterical, Sandor was furious, and Kyme…

The Hound didn't respond to her question when she asked if it was the Lannisters. He pulled her into a crushing hug, muttering about her naivety and stupidity. Maester Lomys wandered back over to Sansa and Sandor, wiping away the salve from his hands in a damp cloth, and informed Sansa, "Now, take it easy these next few days. Your hip looks a bit bruised, but there doesn't seem to be any trauma to your belly and there are no signs of distress from the child. I don't want you straining yourself."

"Yes, Maester," Sansa murmured, rubbing her belly absently. Sandor helped her to her feet. They started towards the door, but instead of following Sandor to their chambers, she told him, "I would like to go see Kyme."

Her husband looked unamused by her words. "Little Bird," he started.

She interrupted. "Just for a short while. I just… it seems appropriate."

Reluctantly, he conceded and told her, "Be back to the chambers shortly then."

Sansa smiled absently and wandered off down the hall towards the room Willas had directed Kyme to be taken to. She could only think of Joffrey's words… _We're coming for you, Sansa._

And, indeed, they had.

#

#

For the longest time, Sansa Clegane stood at the edge of Kyme Flower's chambers, uncertain if she were welcome. In the room, next to Kyme's bedside, Willas Tyrell sat, with his head bowed and Kyme's hand in his. He had yet to move since she had arrived had left the room or say a word to her. Had he been here since Maester Lomys had brought her in?

The little girl had yet to wake up, but she was breathing. That was what mattered.

The Clegane lady was concerned for the Lord of High Garden. When Sandor had brought everyone back to the Keep, Kyme bloody in his arms, Ambrosa wailing, and Meliana sobbing, the Tyrell Lord had ordered them to Kyme's room, calling for Maester Lomys with a touch of panic in his voice. Sansa was the only one to notice the shock on his face, the fear, anguish, and regret… She wasn't sure if she understood what his expressions had truly meant, but she certainly had an idea…

Willas interrupted her thought, saying hoarsely, "I can feel you hovering, my lady."

She shifted on her feet again and carefully asked, "Am I welcome to come in? I just… I know what happened was because of me-"

"It is not your fault that you've been fleeing from the Lannisters. Besides, I was the one to allow today-" His voice caught in his throat. After a moment, he sighed and told her, "Kyme is your friend. You care for her. Please come sit."

Reluctantly, the redhead moved into the room to settle beside Willas on the large bench. It was only when she glanced over at him that she realized he had been crying this entire time. Without thinking, she reached over and wrapped her arms around the Tyrell Lord. "I am so sorry, Willas," she murmured. Reluctantly, she voiced her thought, "… Kyme's your daughter, isn't she?" It all made sense, seeing as Sansa rarely heard of a young bastard girl able to find work inside a Keep…

He laughed humorlessly, not looking at Sansa, but he didn't pull away either. When she said nothing in return, he whispered, "I couldn't send her away all those years ago. Father and Grandmother both wanted her gone. But without my help, Kyme would have died and I couldn't…" His shoulders shook with a silent sob.

"Maester Lomys said she should be okay," she tried comforting, but she was unsure on what else to say.

"… I loved her mother once, but being the heir of High Garden I couldn't just… And for nine years now, I've had to pretend to be indifferent to her. As if I didn't… She doesn't even know," he admitted miserably. "One of the nursemaids raised her until Grandmother decided she was old enough to work. She has no understanding why my family has been so cold to her all these years."

"Families can be cruel," Sansa agreed quietly, thinking of Jon and how he had been treated. After a moment, she continued, "Perhaps now is the time to change that. Tell Kyme everything. I'm sure she would-"

"No!" He shook off Sansa's light hold and shifted away from her. "She… I can't just… You'll have to take her, when the time comes for you to leave for Winterfell. Kyme adores your company and she… she isn't safe here." Sansa stared at the back of Willas Tyrell, unable to find the words to say. As if Kyme would be any safer on the road with her and Sandor.

"I understand you feel guilty, responsible for this, but it's so rash-"

Willas interrupted her sharply, "I would like to be left alone, Sansa. Please, go."

She hesitated a moment, unsure if Willas truly meant it. When he refused to look at her or say another word, Sansa stood and told him quietly, "If you need to talk, I'm here for you." Then, without waiting for a response, she left, wondering just what other secrets lay in High Garden…

#

#

That evening, Sansa and Sandor supped in their own chambers for the night. Willas never called for anyone. Ambrosa was the one to tell Sansa, as she was setting the table, "Lord Willas, he refuses anyone's company. He wouldn't even sup with the other Tyrells that has come to visit." It worried Sansa more, both for Kyme's condition and also how Willas was handling the situation. Still, she kept these thoughts to herself through dinner, mindful of Ambrosa and Meliana. Surely, the girls didn't know of Kyme's status.

She tried turning the topic to the plans of leaving High Garden. Sandor almost snapped at her, until Sansa pointed out, "Willas wants us to leave soon. It's nearly 6 days away and by then, I should be recovered." Her hip barely ached and only she only felt pain if she deliberately applied pressure to the bruising.

Sandor looked irritated at her words, but he didn't argue. The redhead fell silent and poked at her food listlessly for the rest of the meal.

It was only once Ambrosa and Meliana were gone for the night and the Cleganes had retired to bed, that Sansa even dare discuss Willas' request to take Kyme home. She lay in bed, cuddled up against her husband and explained every detail that she had found out. Sandor was silent the entire time, brooding quietly. She knew he wanted to argue, didn't want to bring a young girl with them and an extra mouth to feed. But the ex-knight understood their position and their inability to truly deny Willas' request. The Lord had done so much for them…

After a while, he swore and said, "Fucking hells, Little Bird, she won't be any safer on the road with us."

"I know, Sandor," she murmured, quietly, tightening her arm around him.

For some time, Sansa lay away that night, thoughts on Kyme, Willas' situation, and wondering just what she would have done in his place…

The sun rose and settled in the sky and Sansa wished she didn't have to get out of bed. She tried to stay in bed as long as possible, but Ambrosa and Meliana came early in the morning with platters of food for an early meal. The smell of food roused her. Then, with food, there was also news of Kyme's condition; she was awake and feeling better with a bit of Milk of the Poppy to sooth her pain. "She's breaking her fast with milord this morning," Meliana added, looking relieved.

The news raised Sansa's spirits a bit. She ate most of the meal laid out before her, eating nearly as much as the Hound. While they broke their fast together, she tentatively brought up the plans to leave again. Her husband seemed even less eager to speak of the plans, but Sansa could see that he gave up any hopes of changing her mind. He played with her ideas, threw in a few numbers on the count of food for the traveling party and several other helpful ideas, and eventually left for the day to train with Igon and the Tyrell boys.

Sansa felt an itch to go back to the library to read up on warging, but a gnawing feeling entered her gut at the thought of possibly meeting one of the other Tyrells that were visiting the Keep. So instead, she contented herself out on the balcony with a dark fur-lined fabric to sew. She had hopes to have at least 12 warm and adjustable clothes to wrap her son in by the time she was due. At the rate she was going, she could have 4 of them done before they even left High Garden.

Sansa lost herself in the actions of sewing, quietly humming to herself. She didn't even notice midday had arrived until Ambrosa came for her. The hand maiden had a note in hand, along with a platter of food for her midday meal. She waved the platter of food over to the table and took the note from Ambrosa's hand. Willas' words were scrawled across the parchment, requesting her presence shortly.

It would seem a Maester had arrived at High Garden from the Citadel.

Quickly, she ate her midday meal and then looked over her appearance. Sansa needed to be as presentable as possible to the Maester. She was representing Winterfell at this moment and a good impression was vital. After tweaking her hair and making sure her gown was perfect, she decided it was time to answer Willas' summon.

Ambrosa walked Sansa to the Great room, telling the redhead that she had been with Kyme for a bit. And, while there was some pain to her shoulder, Kyme was already up and moving and looking much better. The hand maiden chattered on as they walked, leaving Sansa little room to wonder just how meeting the Maester would go. She only had the quick moment to hope he would be willing to come all the way to Winterfell to serve what was left of her family. If he answered Willas' request, surely he was willing to go…

Meliana paused outside of the Great room and rapped twice on the door. She only pushed open the doors after Willas ushered them inside. Sansa's attention was immediately drawn to the middle age man standing next to the Lord of High Garden. He was younger than she expected, years younger than Maester Luwin had been, but older than her father. He had a thick dark hair that was just beginning to grey, a hooked nose, but his expression was immediately kind.

Sansa's hand maiden made an excuse and curtsied on her way out, leaving just the three of them in the Great Room. The redhead curtsied as well and smiled brightly. "Good afternoon, my lord, Maester."

Willas smiled and beckoned Sansa forward. "My lady, Sansa Clegane, I would like to introduce you to Maester Bryen." The Maester gave her a warm smile and bowed appropriately. Politely Sansa curtsied again.

"It's a great pleasure to meet you, Maester Bryen," she told him once she had straightened up.

"I hear you are of need of a Maester. I've just recently completed my training at the Citadel. When Lord Willas sent a raven for a request for a Maester's service in Winterfell, I offered to take the task on myself."

"As a representative of House Stark, I greatly appreciate you taking on this task."

Willas beckoned them over to a table and asked, "Would you both like to sit and we can all get acquainted? I'm sure there is much to learn from each other." At Maester Bryen's consent, Sansa agreed as well and settled in a chair across from the Maester. There, they began to speak and learn.

It was interesting to hear someone's past so quickly. She inquired about Maester Bryen's choice to become a Maester and learned much. As a young boy, he'd always been interested in the Family's Maester's work. Once he had been old enough and learning much from the Maester, he decided to train at the Citadel, rather than being the fourth born heir of his family name. He didn't offer his family's last name, only informed her, "They were a good family, but one I chose to step away from."

Afterwards, Sansa asked, "What made you decide to answer Lord Willas' summons?"

"I've always wanted to be in the North, since I had read of it when I was little. It would be quite an honor to be able to serve the House Stark. Or Clegane, whichever will be the House Name once you arrive back at Winterfell, my lady," Maester Bryen corrected, looking sheepish.

Sansa smiled politely, and told him, "We have hopes that the Stark name will continue on at Winterfell. I do believe we will be able to come to an agreement and you can come with us henceforth?"

"The wages required by the Citadel have been paid, so as long as you are happy with this arrangement, I shall come with you to Winterfell."

Sansa's eyes flickered over to Willas Tyrell, but he pretended not to notice as he pushed his chair back from their table. "If you'll excuse me, I forgot I agreed to see my family this afternoon. Please, feel free to use this room as long as you'll like."

He went on his way, winking at Sansa as he left the room. Sansa pursed her lips, but said nothing and smiled at Maester Bryen. "I think you shall be a wonderful addition to Winterfell's staff. Lord Clegane and I plan to head towards the Riverlands in five days, if you'll join our company."

"That sounds good, my lady. I can speak with Maester Lomys on how you're doing and carrying. Perhaps even take a look at you before we head out? My few belongings have been sent here already."

"Wonderful. I think we can both agree on the arrangements then." Sansa settled back in her chair, pleased. At least these few things were going well. Then, she cocked her head to the side. "I have one last question for you, if you don't mind me asking."

"Whatever you would like to ask, my lady."

"What do you know of warging and skin changing?"

 **~A/N~**

 **Well, this chapter is somewhat satisfactory. I wish it would have been longer, but the journey at High Garden is just about done and there wasn't much other details I wanted to add.**

 **Hopefully you all enjoyed this chapter. Thank you for sticking with this. Epilogue is next...**

 **R &R**

 **XmX**


	18. Epilogue

**The Traitor's Escape**

 **Epilogue**

Once Maester Bryen agreed to come to Winterfell in the service of the Starks, the plans to send Sansa and Sandor on their way began moving forward quickly. Sansa and Sandor met with Willas nearly every evening to talk over food, carriages, and men that were coming with them and how everything was being gathered together. The Clegane Lady and Tyrell Lord came to agreements for stores of food to be sent to Winterfell, once her home was retaken, and a fair price for the goods that the Stark family was being given. With Maester Bryen's counsel and Willas's generosity, the Stark family could have stores of grain for almost 5 years of Winter, four years if they needed to give some of the stores to others of the North. Grain, paired with extra livestock and other goods and it was possible that the Stark Family could easily reestablish back at Winterfell. A yearly payment agreement was set with the Tyrells that should be easily manageable and one Robb should be content with.

Between meetings with Willas, Sansa was starting to gather together her and Sandor's belongings. With how little they had arrived at High Garden with, Sansa couldn't believe the amount of goods the Clegane's had now. It was embarrassing that she had acquired much more than Sandor, between her gowns, the fabrics to sew for clothing for her son, and the few other items she had bought at the market. Sandor had new armor, tunics, and breeches, but it seemed so much less than hers. Meliana and Ambrosa helped her pack and carry all the items down to the carriage Sansa would be settled down in the most.

Sansa also went back to see Kyme. After a few days, the redhead was unable to convince Willas to keep Kyme at High Garden. He insisted the handmaiden go with, certain she would be safer with Sandor and Sansa over his Keep. So, the Clegane Lady went to the young handmaiden to try to explain what was happening.

Despite the initial injury, Kyme was healing quickly. She had yet to return to her duties, but she was able to move almost as well as before. She was happy to see Sansa. The redhead sat her down and tried to explain, without informing Kyme of her heritage. Sansa refused to keep the girl in the dark forever, but she would at least take the girl away from here before she exposed Willas' secret.

To say Kyme was ecstatic was an understatement at the prospect of being with Sansa and helping raise the child.

At least, Sansa knew Kyme could be happy about the situation. She wondered if the girl would be any happier after she found out that the redhead took her from her father.

The thrill of leaving High Garden was the exact opposite of what Sandor was feeling. He was very frustrated about the situation. He became the Hound at times. He hated the prospect of bringing his pregnant wife into any danger. He didn't want her riding a horse, didn't want her to show her face, and thought it best for her to stay at High Garden. But, after speaking to Willas at length, he came to her one night and reluctantly agreed to all of them going home.

Sansa tried to make it up to him the best she could, but no matter how many times they fucked or how she tried to distract him, she noticed how tense he got. He was more possessive and protective after the market incident. If someone he didn't recognize came near her (which wasn't often), he looked ready to attack. He even snapped at Lorent and Lucas when they startled her one morning as she was breaking her fast.

It both annoyed and endeared her. She loved that he cared this much, but she hated the possessiveness from time to time. Then again, who was she to complain? He never hit her, never handled her with rough hands and he wasn't nearly as harsh as he used to be. He was no Joffrey. And she could say that she truly love him. Him and their child.

Between all of this, in any free time the Clegane Lady found free, she called upon Maester Bryen. He was busy helping Maester Lomys, both with plans for the leave as well as learning Sansa's history. But, if he had free time and she did as well, they sat and spoke. He had brought many texts he had copied or owned over the years at the Citadel. And, with those texts, he brought information regarding tales of the North. He had more information on warging and skin changing than Willas' library could have offered.

Not many in the Citadel were interested enough in folklore of the North, with warging and skin changing. But there had still been more texts with stories Sansa could compare to and a few of his notes even showed that he had studied the subject at some length. He let her borrow books from his small library as she wanted. She would read them while Sandor was away or if he was sleeping heavily at night. In the dark, she would take three tapers and set them upon her balcony and read in the dark. Otherwise she sat at the small table in their chambers and scribble down notes in a small book Maester Bryen had given to her for writing. At least if she had to sit on the carriage for any length of time, she could read his selection of texts.

What Sansa was reading was extremely informative. There were texts in which others had "studied" men with the ability to warg. She found mention of "green sight", which was a bit different and didn't seem to apply to her situation. The best of all, she found ways in which men had found ways to 'control' skin changing and warging. She found she likely applied in the warging ability rather than skin changing or green sight. She never seemed to take over with Grey Wind, just could see through his eyes. She had hopes that while they rode on the cart, she could try to contact Grey Wind on her terms, rather than sporadically in her dreams. She had already practiced the breathing and clearing of her mind and hoped she could do it easily enough.

With everything happening so quickly, Sansa felt busy nearly every waking moment. She got herself up in the early morning and started out with her breathing and cleared her mind. She did this until Sandor finally emerged from the bed. Then, she worked to getting herself ready in the morning. First, bathing, drying off, and then getting her gown on. It was unfortunate it took her longest to get the gowns on (she refused to resort to breeches and tunics, especially after all the money spent on new gowns for the trip). She should get used to doing everything on her own and, even though lacing herself up was hardest, she still managed.

Her hair was done in a very basic style, braided back to look nice and also out of the way. Occasionally, she let her hair flow free.

On another typical day, the day before the entire party was to leave, Sansa was just finishing her morning routine. She was ready, food had been served, Sandor had gone on his way, and the redhead was sitting with Kyme, helping fold her clothes to put into her trunk. The young girl was ecstatic, brightly chatting about everything and asking about Winterfell. Sansa tried to explain everything as best as she could, advising the girl to wear warmer gowns and to keep a warm cloak close by. Willas had provided the young handmaiden a whole new wardrobe of plain warm gowns, fur lined cloak, and even gloves and thick boots, perfect for Winter.

A knock on Kyme's chamber door interrupted their chat. Kyme hurried over to answer, while Sansa shifted in her chair so she could see.

It was only Maeste Bryen, asking for Sansa. She stood up and told Kyme, "Keep packing, you need to be ready before early morning."

"Yes milady," Kyme beamed, turning back to her trunk. Sansa went over to Maester Bryen, smiling pleasantly.

As they started down the hall, Sansa inquired, "What did you need me for Maester?"

"Maester Lomys thought it best if you had one last examination before you left. He wants to make sure everything is okay. We don't want to stress your body to the point your child will arrive early."

Sansa nodded in understanding, "That makes most sense. And, I'm to assume he wants you there to observe?"

"Yes, as long as that's all right with you, my lady."

"Of course it is. You will be the Maester for Winterfell, it's good that I know you'll be capable of handling anything that could come up." She hesitated, then added, "I haven't had any new dreams of Robb or Greywind since I began practicing the breathing and clearing my mind. I do it day and night, but I haven't been able to reach out at all."

"Give your mind and the ability time to adjust. It will happen in good time. I think it's a sign that nothing has happened since your last connection."

Sansa nodded, her brows furrowed in thought. They couldn't continue talking of warging, as they arrived at Maester Lomys' chambers.

The old Maester beckoned them in, greeting Sansa with a warm, "Good morning, my lady," and slowly making his way over towards the curved chair Sansa was becoming far too familiar with. She stepped up and settled onto the seat, smiling as Maester Lomys and Maester Bryen began talking amongst themselves quietly. She ran her hand over her swollen belly, noticing it had gotten just a bit larger. How big was she going to get by the end?

Maester Lomys drew her attention to him when he brought over his supplies, setting most onto a small table beside her chair. Maester Bryen stood next to him, a curious expression on his face, as Maester Lomys began the typical checkup. He measured her belly, noting the measurements the way he did, followed by listening to her belly with the invention. She was quiet, knowing Maester Lomys wanted her quiet every time he did this. She lay back, resting her eyes a bit, while Maester Lomys handed over his device to Maester Bryen.

Sansa didn't see the look on Maester Bryen's face as he listened as well. She didn't even open her eyes when he asked, "Lady Sansa, are you certain of the calculations? You're only 26 weeks along?"

She nodded and told him, "It's an estimation from my wedding night to the first three weeks we had been… together." Noticing the silence now, she opened her eyes and sat up a bit, her brows furrowing when she noticed the look both Maesters shared. "What is it?"

"Do you notice kicking quite often? Or shifting?" Maester Bryen asked, pressing his hand to her belly in several places, his expression more curious than before. Once the baby kicked, he pressed elsewhere, until he got another kick in response from the opposite side of her belly.

Sansa watched him work, hesitantly saying, "Quite often, for both. It seems he already doesn't appreciate the tight space." She smiled at her words, but when neither Maester replied, she asked again, "What is the matter? Is something wrong-"

"No, no, not of that sort," Maester Lomys reassured her, patting her hand. "He is just confirming what I've suspected since you arrived. Let us finish our examination and Maester Bryen can tell you if he agrees with my suspicion."

"I would have to agree with you," Maester Bryen said without hesitation. "With the size of her belly and the way the baby kicks-"

"That's what I thought as well," Maester Lomys nodded, turning to Sansa.

"What?" she asked again, eyes wide. Should she be afraid?

Maester Bryen smiled reassuringly and told her, "It's nothing to fear. But, my dear, you are likely carrying twins."

 **~A/N~**

 **And here's the end for the Escape. I hope you all enjoyed! Thank you for sticking around for this story.**

 **The next and last story of this Trilogy is already under way. The Traitor's Kingdom. Prologue is completed and uploaded and the next chapter is almost complete!**

 **Please R &R and read the next story! I appreciate all the comments and views of the story and enjoy reading every comment I get.**

 **XmX**


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